


Goodbye Highway

by Zee



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alive Gansey, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crying, Future Fic (just slightly), Grief/Mourning, M/M, Oral Sex, Tarot, Underage Drinking, background blue/gansey, catholicism stuff vaguely, emetophobia warning, graphic depiction of canonical parental death, magician Adam, mentions of canonical child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Declan wanted Ronan to stay overnight in the hospital, because Ronan’s head injury had been nowhere near bad enough to cause the kind of amnesia he had, and the doctors were worried. But Ronan outright refused, insisting that he return to Monmouth with Gansey.</p><p>Adam and Blue heard this from Gansey, out in the hall, since Ronan had demanded they leave the room. He’d stared at them with wide eyes, the closest to panicked Adam had ever seen him, and when Gansey had said “But--it’s Blue and Adam--” Ronan had snarled and snapped “Get <i>out,</i> I don’t fucking <i>know you.</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to properly warn for the angst specific to this story, but there's a lot of stuff in here about recovery from bad brain stuff, and there's also a lot in here about Ronan's grief related to his dad. Title is from the song "Goodbye Highway" by Now It's Overhead. Rating will go up in later chapters.
> 
> If you're interested, I put up a fanmix for this story up on 8tracks: https://8tracks.com/zeegoeshere/trouble-s-what-you-re-in

Ronan fell, and then he didn’t move. Adam had nothing to spare to help him, couldn’t even let his thoughts linger much on the bloody gash on Ronan’s forehead, because he was crouched on the forest floor with his fingers dug into the dirt and thorny branches were erupting around him to fight off Piper and the Third Sleeper. The dream creatures were still fighting on his behalf, so Ronan couldn’t be dead. He and Adam were on the front line, being the only two who had any kind of offensive capabilities against the skeletal creatures the Third Sleeper was summoning. They were supposed to be Gansey’s knights, but now Ronan was down and Piper was _shooting_ at them and Adam’s trees couldn’t grow fast or thick enough to stop bullets, where was Blue--

Adam heard Gansey cry out Ronan’s name, and he saw Piper turn towards him with gun raised, and then Cabeswater lunged up from somewhere in his ribcage and everything went dark.

***

It wasn’t the first time Adam had dreamed of Ronan, and these dreams were always the same. He and Ronan were on the edge of a forest (not Cabeswater, eerily close but _not_ a forest Adam could in any way control), then Ronan took his hand. He led Adam into the trees, and then he let go, and then Adam couldn’t find him. He always woke up at that point, lost and alone in the woods. He’d had the dream two or three times in the span of just a few weeks, and he didn’t know what it meant.

But this time the dream was different, because Ronan was speaking. Adam couldn’t understand him at first--he was speaking Latin, or maybe it was just a garbled kind of English that Adam could parse if he only paid enough attention. 

When Adam said he couldn’t understand, Ronan rolled his eyes and put his hand on Adam’s sternum, over his heart. 

“I said, trouble’s what you’re in.” The voice didn’t sound anything like Ronan. It sounded more like Glendower, the few words Adam had heard him speak before they were attacked.

The rest of the dream continued like it always did: Ronan took Adam’s hand, led him into the forest, then let him go when they were in deep enough. The trees were dense, pressing in all around and blocking the sun, and Adam shouted Ronan’s name but there was no answer.

***

Adam woke up to Gansey’s face peering over him. Gansey was so close that he was mostly nose, and then when he saw Adam’s eyes open he pulled back, grinning.

“He’s awake!” Gansey called out, presumably to Blue and Noah, who swiftly appeared in Adam’s line of sight. All three of them looked relieved, and it was Gansey’s hand on his chest now, his palm pressing down reassuringly warm and solid.

“You had us worried,” Gansey was saying. Adam blinked and tried to sit up, but dizziness forced him back down. He was looking up at the ceiling of Monmouth, and he was pretty sure he was on Gansey’s bed. He didn’t know what time it was, what day it was. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“Blue saved us,” Gansey said, sliding an arm around Blue’s shoulders. She didn’t shrug him off like she might have once. She gave Adam a shaky smile, her eyes bloodshot, her shoulders slumped. “Those awful bone creatures got past your thorns and then they were attacking us, and when they touched Blue she did something marvelous to them, I’m not sure what, but they all turned right back around and went after the Third Sleeper instead. 

“And Piper?” That gun was the last thing Adam remembered, but he didn’t feel pain anywhere, so he must not have been shot. 

Gansey winced, and Noah put a hand on his shoulder. “It was Cabeswater. When she aimed at you, it was like--you passed out and at the same time, this tree erupted _around_ her, or from inside of her, or something--it was really confusing, but before she could shoot you she was basically swallowed up.”

Noah’s voice was soft and neutral, like he was describing some sort of objective event that just sort of happened, rather than something Adam had definitely caused. “So she’s stuck in a tree?”

Gansey met Adam’s eyes again, sad and exhausted. “She’s dead. So is Glendower.”

They had been attacked as soon as they’d gotten Glendower above ground. Glendower had been dying from the moment they revived him, suffering from some curse that probably came from the Third Sleeper, and Gansey had stayed with him while Adam and Ronan stepped forward to try to be action heroes or whatever. Fuck--he struggled to sit up, brushing away Gansey’s helping hands. ”Ronan?”

“He’s going to be all right,” Blue said. “We took him to the hospital, I think he might still be unconscious but the head injury wasn’t major. They promised to call us if there was any change.”

Adam’s head started to hurt as soon as he sat up. He pressed a hand to his eyes, fighting back the pain. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?”

Noah laughed softly. “You fainted because of Cabeswater!” Gansey said, defensive. “It was magical in origin, or something, we didn’t think the hospital could help.”

“Also we were worried they’d do an x-ray and find out you were half-forest,” Blue added. Adam snorted, the closest thing to laughter he was capable of at the moment. He took his hand down and blinked his eyes open, looking at his three tired friends. “How long was I out?”

“It’s been a couple hours,” Noah said. “We’re glad you’re awake.”

Adam swung his feet out onto the floor, standing carefully. The other three stepped back to give him space, but as soon as he was upright they were right there again. He wasn’t sure who initiated it but somehow they were all crowding in and arms were opening around him and he was getting hugged by a ghost and a king and their apparent savior. Adam was too worn out to do anything but let it happen and hug back.

“Thanks for saving the day,” he mumbled, and Blue laughed.

“I guess being a mirror’s good for something,” she said. 

They all felt it when Gansey’s phone vibrated. The group hug ended and Gansey fumbled in his pocket, stiffening when he saw who was calling.

“It’s the hospital.” He stepped back to answer it, facing away from them.

Adam looked at Blue and Noah. “The favor--?”

Blue shot a quick look at Gansey, but he was wrapped up in his phone conversation, not paying them any mind. “He thinks Glendower died before he could give it,” she said, her voice hushed and conspiratorial. “But Noah says he asked him during the fight, when Gansey was distracted, and Glendower said yes.”

Adam looked at Noah for confirmation, and he nodded. Adam opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what--how do you properly thank someone for passing on the opportunity to live again, for trading their life for your friend’s? But then Gansey was hanging up and turning back to them, relief clear on his face.

“Ronan’s awake, they say he’s fine, let’s go,” he said in a rush.

Adam didn’t feel like getting in a car and driving to the hospital, he felt like he could crawl back into bed and sleep for another 24 hours, but when he thought of Ronan all he could see was that blood on his forehead. He needed to see Ronan healthy and alive, needed to verify it with his own eyes. 

It wasn’t until they were arriving at the hospital, the Pig climbing up the levels of the parking garage, that Adam remembered the Ronan from his dream. _Trouble’s what you’re in._ But they’d been in trouble and come out the other side; they had Glendower’s promise that Gansey would live, and nothing else really mattered. 

It felt like it took forever to get their visitor badges, and the whole time Adam felt himself swaying on his feet, barely conscious. When they finally got to Ronan’s room, Declan was already there. He looked up when they entered, his mouth twisted into an ugly shape. 

“He’s not well enough for more visitors right now,” Declan said, but Ronan was already struggling to sit up, _”Gansey.”_

“I’m here,” Gansey said, coming to the side of the bed not currently occupied by Declan and taking Ronan’s hand in both of his. Ronan stared up at him with a gratitude that looked foreign on his sharp features, and Declan was shuffling to block Adam and Blue and Noah’s access to the bed. He looked at them with naked suspicion and hostility, his jaw set.

“He’s not--have the nurses told you anything?” Declan asked, and there was something strange in his voice, an apprehensive note that gave Adam pause. But he only had eyes for Ronan, who looked strangely small dressed in a white hospital gown, who had a black line of stitches marching up his forehead. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ronan said, and then turned to look at the rest of them like he’d just now realized they were in the room too. “Hey, Noah,” he said, and then his eyes slid to Blue, then Adam. His eyebrows came together in confusion, and before he spoke Adam felt dread curl in his stomach. He wanted to reach out and clap his hand over Ronan’s mouth, because whatever was coming was bad, Ronan was not all right-- _trouble’s what you’re in--_

“Who the fuck are you?” Ronan said.

***

Declan wanted Ronan to stay overnight in the hospital, because Ronan’s head injury had been nowhere near bad enough to cause the kind of amnesia he had, and the doctors were worried. But Ronan outright refused, insisting that he return to Monmouth with Gansey. He hated hospitals and he wanted to sleep in his own bed, and besides, they’d already given him stitches for the head wound and couldn’t actually do anything to help his memory.

Adam and Blue heard this from Gansey, out in the hall, since Ronan had demanded they leave the room. He’d stared at them with wide eyes, the closest to panicked Adam had ever seen him, and when Gansey had said “But--it’s Blue and Adam--” Ronan snarled and snapped “Get _out,_ I don’t fucking _know you._ ”

Adam didn’t need to be told twice. Blue was right behind him as he turned on his heel and walked out into the hallway, not stopping until he was yards away and Blue was yanking on his sleeve, telling him to stop.

Adam leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. The bright glare of hospital lighting hurt his eyes. Blue was right next to him, her eyes darting around the busy hallway like she expected to be attacked.

“He just hit his head, is all,” Blue said. “I’m sure he’ll get over it. Probably best to give him space.”

Adam pressed his sweaty palms to his jeans, willing himself to stop shaking. It was probably that he was still drained from Cabeswater’s stunt. That was it. “Yeah,” he said, and tried to stop seeing the look on Ronan’s face, his eyes wide and confused like he was afraid of them. 

Eventually Gansey came out of Ronan’s room to explain the situation to them. Ronan’s memory seemed to end right after his father had died, right after he’d moved into Monmouth. So he knew Gansey and Noah, but that was where it stopped.

“Declan says that this kind of thing is usually temporary,” Gansey said. “That’s what the doctors told him. So we just have to--” he rubbed at his face, the mask of competence slipping for a moment. “We just have to give him time. He doesn’t have any lasting injuries, there’s no physical _reason_ for him to have amnesia, so--so they’re hoping it will just pass.”

“He’s the Greywaren,” Adam said. “What if it works different for him?” What had the doctors seen when they’d taken a peek at Ronan’s brain--did it look weird, inhuman? Did it give away any of his secrets? Secrets that, Adam realized, Ronan might not remember telling them.

Gansey frowned at him. “Why would it be different? I’m sure he’s going to be fine. But--well, he wants to go back to Monmouth, but he doesn’t, um…”

Gansey didn’t want to say it. Blue crossed her arms over her chest and said it for him. “He doesn’t want to go back with us, because he doesn’t know us. It’s fine. We’ll call a cab.”

What Blue meant was they’d call Calla--neither of them had money for a cab, but Gansey wasn’t about to realize that, not as distracted as he was by Ronan. He went back into Ronan’s room, promising to text them updates on the situation, and Blue and Adam took the elevator down to the first floor, signed themselves out and then went outside to wait for their ride. Neither of them spoke. Adam wondered if Blue was thinking what he was thinking: that this wasn’t how their story was supposed to go, they’d made it through the big battle at the end of their quest and somehow everyone was alive, yet they weren’t together. 

It wasn’t like Adam had actually expected any kind of happy ending, but he hadn’t expected something like this. He’d never worried about Ronan, not the way he worried about Gansey and Noah and even Blue. Ronan was the powerful one, beloved by Cabeswater and able to dream up whole armies if he needed to, a thief and a snake and somehow unstoppable. The image of Ronan in his mind didn’t fit with the Ronan he’d just seen, scared and confused and angry in that hospital bed, the skin of his forehead marred by black stitches. Ronan had clutched at Gansey’s hand like it was all he knew, and Adam had been jealous of Gansey for so many things before but never for _that._

Blue broke the silence as they waited, sitting on the curb. “You can spend the night at my place, if you want. We have like three guest beds and the couch is also pretty comfy.”

Adam was surprised by the offer. He looked down at the top of her head; she was staring down at the road, the asphalt new and deeply black. It didn’t sound half bad, actually, being around Blue’s family tonight instead of going home to his empty apartment. “Why?”

Blue shrugged, and looked up at him. “I guess I just don’t feel like any of us should be alone, not tonight. It doesn’t feel right, you know?”

When she said that, Adam realized that on some level he had pictured himself crashing at Monmouth tonight. It _didn’t_ feel right for them to be split up, not after everything that had happened, and Gansey wasn’t about to invite him or Blue to come to Monmouth tonight. 300 Fox Way was probably the best place to go, considering.

“All right, sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

Blue smiled at him. Her smile still made some warm part of him unfurl, and maybe that would always be the case--maybe his affection would never truly die, even if it had mostly morphed into a different kind of fondness. Adam was too tired to resent the ghost of his feelings at the moment, and he smiled back.

***

They both received a text from Gansey during the dinner that Maura had insisted upon making for them, despite the fact that neither Blue nor Adam were hungry. 

_Ronan’s home and Declan is finally gone. Ronan seems fine other than the amnesia, but he is pretty tired and has already fallen asleep. Maybe he’ll remember more when he wakes up??_

A second text came, a minute later. _I think it would be good for you guys to come over tomorrow regardless of whether or not his amnesia is better. I don’t want to have to explain everything on my own._

Blue and Adam both texted back that of course they would come over. Blue said, _maybe if his memory isn’t fixed he could come over here? my mom or calla might know something to help. and it couldn’t hurt to at least give him a reading._

Adam doubted very much that Ronan would agree to that--he hadn’t wanted to be read by the Sargent women even when he knew who they were. But still, it was a good idea, to look towards magical remedies for a magical person. He texted back, _we can also try taking him to cabeswater. and maybe the barns? although he probably doesn’t remember he’s allowed back at the barns. so maybe not. ___

__Gansey texted, _These are all good ideas! It all depends on how Ronan feels in the morning. I’ll let you know!__ _

__Blue met Adam’s eyes over the dinner table, frowning. “This feels super shitty,” she said. Adam nodded. He felt shut out, a stranger to the Monmouth trio, and it wasn’t in any way Gansey’s fault but Adam still felt annoyed with him._ _

__Adam fell deeply asleep that night, almost as soon as his head hit the pillow on the guest bed he’d been given. But he woke up just a few hours later, unable to remember his dreams but certain they’d been alarming._ _

__He stared up at the ceiling of the guest room, which was actually a craft room--he shared the space with four sewing machines and several bolts of cloth. He felt wide awake and full of energy, and there was an idea in his head that was almost definitely bad._ _

__Only Orla was awake when he crept through the house. She was standing at the kitchen counter, holding a mug of hot cocoa and texting with someone. She looked up when Adam paused in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to give him away. Eventually she shrugged one bronze shoulder languidly, turning back to her phone, and Adam kept going. The women of 300 Fox Way kept a small bowl on a table next to the door, and the bowl held all manner of keys and receipts and mail that no one felt like opening. Adam fished out the keys to Calla’s car as quietly as he could, but Orla still probably heard him. He didn’t know why she was letting him do this, but he appreciated it._ _

__It was an unseasonably warm night for February, which was good because Adam had accidentally left his jacket in the guest room. Adam sat in the driver’s seat of Calla’s car for a few seconds, holding his breath after he got it running, convinced that one of the women (or the sole male, somehow Adam still forgot about Blue’s dad) was going to walk out here and catch him and yell at him for treating their hospitality this way. But no lights flicked on inside the house, and no one came to the door. Adam eased the car down out of the driveway and onto the road._ _

__The drive to Monmouth was short and didn’t give him much time to contemplate what he was doing, which was good because he was trying not to think about it. But when he parked next to the BMW and cut the engine, there was no avoiding the idiocy of this. He sat with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the keys in the ignition, staring up at the windows of Monmouth’s second floor. He wasn’t welcome here, not tonight, so what the fuck was he doing?_ _

__Adam was doing what Ronan would do in his place, if their situations were reversed. Of course. The Greywaren and the Magician, fucking locked into each other. Adam could choose not to do this, just as he could have chosen not to help Ronan frame Greenmantle, but he wasn’t about to._ _

__He took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, walked around the building until he was directly beneath Ronan’s window. There wasn’t any convenient way to climb up, and if he went through the front door he’d wake Gansey. But Adam remembered what he’d been able to do when they fought Piper and the Third Sleeper, and he wasn’t in Cabeswater here but maybe, still?_ _

__He put his hand on the brick wall, closed his eyes and felt around for the ley line. It flowed willingly through him, and it was trickier to do this here than it had been in the forest, but he could feel it working. He concentrated, putting into it all his will and his urgency and his worry for Ronan, and when he opened his eyes strong vines had grown from his feet to Ronan’s window. They were as thick as his ankle, and supported his weight when he tested them._ _

__He had not been able to do anything like this before they found Glendower, at least not consciously. It was disturbing, to have this kind of power, but Adam shoved his nervousness to the side to think about later. He climbed until he was at Ronan’s window, which was shut but not latched. Somehow it didn’t squeak or creak when Adam pushed it open, and he was miraculously able to get inside without making any noise._ _

__It still woke Ronan. He sat bolt upright, then shoved his sheets to the side and scrambled out of bed, his hands clenched into fists. Chainsaw, sitting on a dresser across the room from the bed, flapped her wings but didn’t caw._ _

__“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Ronan hissed. Adam waited for him to shout for Gansey, but he didn’t--which made sense, actually: of course Ronan would prefer to handle an intruder himself, with his own fists. Adam braced himself but Ronan didn’t attack him, but just stood there, crouched and ready._ _

__“It’s me,” Adam said, then immediately felt foolish. “I mean--do you remember me? From the hospital?”_ _

__Ronan was silent for several moments. When he spoke, nothing about his posture relaxed; he still looked ready to deck Adam. “Gansey brought you to the hospital. Along with that girl.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Adam swallowed. The shadows of the room gave nothing away, and he couldn’t tell what Ronan was thinking. “My name’s Adam.”_ _

__“So? Am I supposed to care?” Maybe once Adam would have heard this voice from Ronan and thought it only blunt or cruel, but now he could hear the fear, the defensive snarl, the brittleness beneath the caustic surface. “And you haven’t answered my fucking question. _What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?_ ”_ _

__Adam realized he was holding his hands up defensively, in the universal sign of ‘don’t shoot.’ He lowered them. “I came to see you. Because I was worried. Because we’re friends, or at least, we were.”_ _

__It was hard to say the words. Had Adam ever called Ronan his friend before, out loud to his face? Had he ever told Ronan he worried about him? Maybe not, and that probably had everything to do with what had drawn Adam here tonight in the first place. Adam had woken up in the middle of the night with a burning need to see Ronan for himself, without Gansey or Blue or anyone else around, because Ronan had always been the one to come to _him_ and this time, this time it had to be Adam reaching out._ _

__Ronan’s stance shifted slightly, making him look slightly less eager to be violent now. He was shirtless, wearing only dark blue boxer shorts. “I don’t know who you are, so I guess we’re not friends anymore.”_ _

__Adam was glad it was too dark for him to properly see Ronan’s face. He didn’t want to know how Ronan was looking at him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”_ _

__“Fuck you.”_ _

__Adam had almost forgotten what it was like, to be faced with the hostility that Ronan deployed any time he met a new person. This Ronan was probably even worse, if this was him right after his dad died, as Gansey had said. “My name is Adam Parrish. I go to Aglionby, I’m in your grade. I’m in your Latin class. We’ve been friends for more than a year now.”_ _

__“That doesn’t mean dick to me. And you obviously don’t have anything important so say, so.” Ronan took a step forward, bringing all his menace to bear. Adam had to admit that it was actually intimidating, especially when he reminded himself that this was not the Ronan he knew, who had fought his father for him and showed up to court for him; this was a Ronan who might legitimately mean him harm. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”_ _

__Adam stood his ground. “I know what you can do with your dreams. I know you can take things from them.”_ _

__Ronan went completely still. It wasn’t a good sign: if anything, it made him look all the more dangerous. “How.”_ _

__“I know because you told me. You told all of us, me and Gansey and Noah and Blue.” Adam hesitated, but continued, feeling like he was escalating a dare Ronan had thrown in his face long ago. “I know you like men. But that one you didn’t have to tell me.”_ _

__Ronan’s movement was silky and fluid as a predator’s, and then he had the front of Adam’s shirt in his fists and was pressing Adam up against his closet door. Up close, Adam could see that his eyes were red rimmed and sunken, and this must have been an incredibly stressful day for Ronan even before a stranger had broken into his room in the middle of the night. He looked like he was cracking._ _

__“Who the fuck are you _really,_ ” Ronan said. “Tell me everything, and tell me why none of this could wait for the morning. And,” Ronan continued when Adam opened his mouth, “if you tell me we’re friends one more time, you’re gonna lose some teeth. _You are not my friend._ ”_ _

__That hurt, badly enough that Ronan might as well have actually hit him. Adam was surprised at the pain, circling it in his mind and prodding it for validity and truth before carefully filing it away to look at later._ _

__He held up his hands in surrender again, and Ronan’s grip on his shirt loosened slightly. “All right, fine. How much do you know about Gansey’s Glendower quest?”_ _

__Ronan glared at him, his jaw working, and Adam was starting to think that he wasn’t going to answer. Then Ronan dropped his hands from Adam’s shirt and took a step back. “He’s told me about it and wants me to help him look.”_ _

__“Okay.” Adam said. He was having trouble figuring out where to start, and most of this felt like Gansey’s story to tell--why wasn’t he waiting for Gansey to tell it? Adam thought he knew the answer to that question, and it made him uncomfortable and a little embarrassed. “You… might want to sit down. It’s kind of a long story.”_ _

__Ronan bared his teeth, but let go of Adam’s shirt, taking a step back. “I’ll stand.”_ _

__Adam rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, sticking them in his back pockets. “Suit yourself. So--you moved into Monmouth with Gansey, do you remember that?”_ _

__Ronan swallowed. “Yeah. That was three days ago.”_ _

__If that had happened three days ago, it meant that for Ronan Niall’s death was… jesus, five days ago. Sympathy pulled at Adam’s stomach and he wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t know how Ronan would react to sympathy at the moment. “I met Gansey a few months after you moved in to Monmouth.”_ _

__Adam had never felt like he was a good storyteller. That was all Gansey, and Ronan in his own way, and every time Blue told stories about her family Adam was happy to listen. But it wasn’t one of his strengths, which he had never minded, but it felt important now. Adam tried to relay the events of the last year and a half as faithfully as he could, and realized part of the way through that he’d been forgetting to add in anything about Ronan’s reactions to the events--he’d described meeting Gansey and Ronan as well as them all meeting Blue, but he’d left out that Ronan hated both him and Blue at first. (Maybe Ronan knew himself well enough to realize that of course he would have.) He’d described the finding of Cabeswater and their discovery that Noah was dead, but didn’t point out that Ronan took this hard, considering how close he’d gotten to Noah by that point._ _

__This made him stumble when he got to the part of the story that involved Ronan fighting his father. Would Ronan want an explanation of _why_ he’d thrown himself into a fight that had been none of his business? Would he want to know whether or not Adam was worth it?_ _

__Adam also found himself stumbling for other reasons. It had been one thing for Ronan to know who he was, where he came from back when they’d first met, back when Adam hadn’t been able to hide the bruises and when they knew he lived in a trailer park because that was where Gansey picked him up for school. It was quite another to have to explain all that in the dark of Ronan’s bedroom, with Ronan’s unsympathetic eyes trained on him and his arms crossed over his chest. Nothing about his body language spoke of kindness or understanding._ _

___He’s still Ronan,_ Adam reminded himself. _He’s still the same guy who went to bat for you. He fought next to you just yesterday.__ _

__Adam took his hands out of his back pockets and stuffed them into his front pockets, licked his teeth, looked away and back again. “You were driving me home. I--back then I lived in a trailer. My family situation wasn’t great, my dad would. We got in fights a lot.” Fuck, he sucked at this. “Anyway, he was yelling at me when you were dropping me off. I fell down--he pushed me--and I hit my head. You saw from your car, I guess, and you got out of your car and hit my dad. My mom called the police. It was… bad.”_ _

__Ronan’s eyes bore into Adam as he talked. He started to frown, and Adam felt desperate to know what he was reacting to: confusion at his own past behavior? Anger at Adam’s father? Adam’s mouth felt dry and sticky, and he wanted a glass of water, he wanted out of Ronan’s bedroom. It had been foolish to come._ _

__He kept going. “They were going to arrest you, but I pressed charges. Against my dad, I mean. So they let you go, and I had to move out. I have my own apartment now, above St. Agnes church. Do you remember St. Agnes?”_ _

__“Yes I fucking remember St. Agnes,” Ronan snapped, but he uncrossed his arms and rubbed his palms on his thighs. He looked like he wanted to shove his hands in his pockets, like Adam was doing, but he didn’t have any. “Your dad sounds like a shitbag.”_ _

__Adam let out the shaky breath he’d been holding. “Yeah.”_ _

__Ronan crossed his arms again, looking out toward the window. “Then what?”_ _

__Adam didn’t know whether or not he appreciated Ronan’s lack of emotional display. They hadn’t discussed the incident in depth when it happened; had he ever even properly thanked Ronan? Adam didn’t remember feeling particularly grateful--at the time he’d been mostly numb._ _

__Had Ronan expressed any sentiment beyond ‘your dad’s a shitbag’ now, Adam wouldn’t have known what to do. So it’s probably for the best._ _

__He moved on to tell the rest of the story, summarizing his sacrifice to Cabeswater as best he could, explaining how Ronan had told all of them about his dream abilities. It was difficult to convey the whole bizarre thing with Kavinsky, since Adam hadn’t witnessed all of that firsthand. Ronan’s shoulders stiffened when Adam mentioned the kidnapping of Matthew, but he didn’t interrupt._ _

__He _did_ interrupt when Adam started to explain the Gray Man. “What the fuck? You’re saying my father’s killer is _here_?” His voice shook and broke, and his hands clenched to fists at his side._ _

__“Not anymore. He left, not too long ago.” Adam left out that he’d dated Blue’s mother before the return of her father, and he didn’t dwell on the fact that the Gray Man had helped them. Ronan was looking to the side and blinking furiously, and Adam realized that he was fighting back tears._ _

__He felt immediately guilty. It would be one thing for this Ronan to cry in front of Gansey, his best friend. It was quite another to cry in front of Adam, whom he barely knew. Adam should have let Gansey be the one to tell him these things, this was _wrong._ He felt like he was forcing an intimacy upon Ronan that Ronan had never asked for or wanted. Why had Adam wanted to do this so badly? Why was it important to him to be Ronan’s link to his memories? There were, of course, things that Gansey wouldn’t have been able to tell Ronan, namely the whole mess with Greenmantle, but that felt like a hollow excuse._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Adam said, even though he doubted it was what Ronan wanted to hear. Ronan looked back at him, his eyes glistening, and his features pulled into their familiar scowl._ _

__“Tell me what happened next.”_ _

__Adam kept talking, and didn’t stop until he’d gotten to their fight against Piper and the Third Sleeper. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he felt like he’d been talking for hours when it was all done. Silence hung heavy in the room until Chainsaw ruffled her feathers. Ronan stood still._ _

__There were gaps in Adam’s story. He hadn’t mentioned Ronan adjusting his rent with St. Agnes. He hadn’t mentioned _manibus: for your hands_ or the mixtape that was still in Adam’s car. The omissions burned in Adam’s throat like smoke, but he wasn’t going to put words in Ronan’s mouth, couldn’t present Ronan’s crush as an unchangeable fact of his life._ _

__Ronan no longer liked him. Ronan didn’t _know_ him. The hurt from earlier was trying to crawl out and take over, and Adam couldn’t let it, couldn’t think about it, couldn’t open the door to loss. This whole thing was so much worse for Ronan than it was for him, and that was what he had to focus on._ _

__“Gansey told me I’m seventeen now,” Ronan said. “Eighteen in a couple months.”_ _

__Adam nodded. “Gansey turned eighteen a couple weeks ago. We’ll all graduate soon.”_ _

__Ronan finally moved to sit down, his limbs collapsing heavily onto the edge of his bed. “Most of everything you just told me sounds impossible.”_ _

__Adam wrestled with himself for a few seconds over whether or not to join Ronan on the bed, before moving to sit next to him. Ronan didn’t move away. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t impossible for us.”_ _

__Ronan ducked his head, staring at his knees. “I still don’t get why you had to break into my fucking room in the middle of the night. Gansey was gonna tell me everything in the morning.”_ _

__Adam’s fingers twitched. His mind raced before something honest tumbled out. “I don’t know. You didn’t want to see me and Blue in the hospital today, and I was worried, and--” _no,_ he couldn’t tell Ronan that if their situations were reversed Ronan would have broken into Adam’s apartment without hesitation; couldn’t tell Ronan that if Adam had lost anything as crucial as his own history, Ronan would have never let anyone kick him out of the hospital room. Adam was not a manipulator, not of Ronan. “--I just thought that maybe I could help.”_ _

__“Did you want a fucking thank you? Did you expect--?” Ronan cut himself off and covered his face with his hands, bending over his knees. Adam knew better than to touch him, but he wanted to._ _

__“Please don’t thank me,” Adam said. “And I don’t expect anything from you.”_ _

__Ronan didn’t respond. What little light there was in the room glinted off his bare shoulder blades, and his tattoo looked like it was swallowing him up. Adam hadn’t said anything about the tattoo, because he knew nothing of its origin. Gansey would have to fill in the blanks there._ _

__“Maybe--your memories could come back, right? I think that this kind of amnesia often passes. And there are things we can do, people that could help.” Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to say, but it felt viscerally wrong not to offer Ronan any kind of comfort at all._ _

__“Can you please just go?” Ronan said, his head still in his hands. The ‘please’ was all wrong coming from him, an unmistakeable sign of just how terrible he must have been feeling. How terrible Adam had made him feel._ _

__Adam stood up slowly, staring across the room at Chainsaw. “Yeah. Of course. I’m sorry.”_ _

__Ronan didn’t respond, didn’t look up when Adam went to the window and climbed through it. It was trickier to climb down the vines than it had been to climb up, and when Adam reached the ground he realized that he had no way of disappearing the vines. Just like Ronan’s dream things, they were here to stay, fully real and implacable. Gansey would surely notice them in the morning, and want an explanation._ _

__Exhaustion hit the back of Adam’s eyes as he drove Calla’s car back to 300 Fox Way. He’d only slept a few hours before getting up, and now he only had another few hours before the morning came. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget he’d ever done this stupid thing. All he’d managed to do was make Ronan feel worse._ _

__The reality began to sink in once he’d fallen back onto the guest bed, his face pressed to the pillow. Without quite realizing it, Adam had become quite used to Ronan’s crush on him. He’d grown comfortable with the shape of it, he’d enjoyed Ronan’s looks and the time he spent in Adam’s apartment and even the horrid secrets they’d shared. Saving Gansey and finding Glendower had been the priority, so he hadn’t given himself space to figure out whether the crush was mutual. Ronan hadn’t seemed in any kind of hurry to make a move, content to let Adam figure things out, and Adam had counted on having _time.__ _

__Time was exactly what Ronan had now lost, and Adam had been a fool to think he could ever allow himself to take a good thing for granted._ _

__Adam rolled over onto his side and hugged his knees to his chest. His body thudded with a sad song’s beat, and he wanted to be asleep, he wanted to escape the sour grief on his tongue. The whole thing was worse for Ronan, so much worse, and Adam was stupid and selfish and greedy to even be thinking this way. It was second nature to let anger at himself rise up and swallow the sadness, and the self-loathing was at least quiet enough (familiar enough) to let him fall asleep._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After remembering his father’s death, Ronan remembered that he was apparently seventeen now. He remembered that his dad had died two years ago, not last Sunday, and that he was a stranger to his own life. He remembered waking up in a hospital gown and getting driven back here by Gansey, and he remembered waking up in the middle of the night to that asshole breaking into his room.

It had been the same every day this week: Ronan would wake up, and it wouldn’t be terrible at first, he’d feel neither particularly happy nor sad as his thoughts came fuzzily to the surface. Then he would open his eyes, and experience a moment of confusion at seeing Monmouth’s ceiling instead of his own bedroom. Then he’d remember why he was sleeping at Monmouth. 

The wet spray of his father’s blood and brains on the garage’s concrete floor. The smell. The sounds Ronan had made as he knelt at his dad’s side, the way the body had flopped when Ronan had pulled it onto his lap. It would all come crashing back the moment Ronan became fully conscious. And always, he’d feel at first disbelief, an outright refusal to accept the memory as real. 

This morning was worse. After remembering his father’s death, he remembered that he was apparently seventeen now. He remembered that his dad had died two years ago, not last Sunday, and that he was a stranger to his own life. He remembered waking up in a hospital gown and getting driven back here by Gansey, and he remembered waking up in the middle of the night to that asshole breaking into his room.

Ronan rolled over onto his side, curling into a fetal position. He didn’t try to stop the tears streaming down his face. He’d grown used to waking up and crying, this past week. There was no one here to see, no mother with a mysterious sense for when he needed to be comforted, no father to distract him from his childish weeping with some new impossible thing. 

He heard a flap of wings, and then the raven that was apparently his landed on his bed next to his elbow. Ronan stared at her, his eyes dried out now. Her name was Chainsaw, Gansey had told him that. He hadn’t told Ronan where she’d come from, only that she was Ronan’s pet. Adam had supplied the information that she’d come out of Ronan’s dreams. 

Chainsaw was a good name. But what was Ronan supposed to do with a fucking bird?

When he left his room, Noah was there, sitting on Gansey’s bed. He gave Ronan a small smile, barely an upward quirk of his lips, and it was a reassuringly familiar expression.

Noah was dead, though. The revelation settled on his shoulders, heavy and strangely frightening, and Ronan looked away.

Gansey came out of the kitchen/bathroom, raising his eyebrows when he saw Ronan. “Morning. Would you like some coffee?”

Ronan grunted an affirmative and followed Gansey back into the kitchen. Ronan sat down at the table in the far side of the room, in between the fridge and the shower. Gansey set a hog mug of black coffee down in front of him and Ronan wrapped his hands around it. He’d only just woken up, and already he felt bone tired.

Gansey sat down across from him, and Noah stood nearby. Ronan hadn’t seen him walk in--seemed like he’d just appeared. Great. 

“How’s your memory?” Gansey asked, using the same careful voice he’d used yesterday, driving Ronan home from the hospital. It was different from the careful way he’d taken to speaking to Ronan after his father’s death, but that could just be because this Gansey was older. It was really the same fucking thing, Gansey treating him like he was made of porcelain, Gansey looking at him like he knew Ronan had woken up crying.

“The same as it was yesterday,” Ronan said. He brought the coffee to his lips and it burned his tongue going down. 

“I see.” Gansey glanced at Noah, then back at Ronan. “You must have questions.”

Ronan thought about waking up in the middle of the night to see a shadowy figure slipping in from the window, thought about holding the front of Adam’s shirt in his hands. Did Adam want to keep his visit a secret from Gansey, just like they were apparently keeping all sorts of other shit from Gansey? 

Too fucking bad. Ronan felt no obligation to keep secrets for someone he barely knew. “Not really. Your friend Adam came to my room in the middle of the night. Told me everything.”

Gansey’s mouth opened in surprise, and he gripped the table, leaning in. “What? _Adam_ did that? You--did he say why? And how much did he tell you?”

“Everything, I just said. Or at least he claimed it was everything.” Ronan let his head fall back, staring up at Monmouth’s high ceiling. “He told me how he and Blue became friends with us. He told me that _you_ \--” Ronan pointed to Noah, “are a fucking ghost. He told me about all these shitheads we fought, and a magic forest, and finding Glendower and all kinds of stuff. It didn’t make much sense.”

“I see. Wow.” Gansey ran a hand through his hair and shifted in his seat. Noah uncrossed his arms and crossed them again. Ronan scowled.

Adam had also told him that he knew Ronan was queer. Did that mean Gansey knew as well? It wasn’t the best kept of Ronan’s secrets, but still, he’d never--

His father never knew.

“Apparently our lives went to complete shit in the past year,” Ronan said, taking another gulp of coffee, slightly less scalding this time. “That was the gist I got.”

Gansey gave a short laugh. “You’re not wrong. Well, since you’ve already gotten the rundown--” He leaned forward, both elbows on the table, eyes shining with some new plan. “I’ve got an idea for how we can get your memory back, or at least how we can start. Did Adam tell you that Blue’s relatives are all psychics?”

That sounded vaguely familiar to Ronan, although so much of what Adam had told him had already blurred together in his mind, amorphous and strange. “I think so.”

“Right. Well, her family has helped us clarify things and figure stuff out in the past, and we thought it could help you now. Maybe they can figure out what’s blocking your memories and how we can fix it.”

‘How we can fix it.’ The phrase was a match struck against Ronan’s ribs, lighting up his resentment. He stood abruptly, chair clattering, and left the kitchen. The living room wasn’t any better--there was the model Henrietta, which he didn’t remember, and his fucking bird, which he didn’t remember. He didn’t want to be fixed, he wanted to have not missed his dad’s funeral. He wanted to be fifteen, he _was_ fifteen.

He walked out the front door and down the stairs to the parking lot, vaguely aware of Gansey calling his name behind him. He was barefoot and shirtless and the asphalt was cold against his feet. It was winter now, seasons changing on him in the space of a day. 

He could see some sort of thick vine plant bursting from the parking lot gravel and climbing up to his window. Ronan walked over and wrapped his hand around one of the vines. It was thick enough that his hand couldn’t fit around the whole thing. It was pale green and he could feel soft fuzz against his palm, but no thorns. 

Ronan seized the vine with both hands and pulled as hard as he could. It came free of the wall and bent down, split but refused to break off. Ronan pulled at another vine, a skinnier one, and ripped it out at the root. He attacked the rest of the vines, most of them too thick to be removed with his bare hands, most of them immovable. He ripped and tore and his palms hurt and his cheeks felt hot and his fingernails were scraping against the brick wall--

Another set of hands came into his vision, wrapping around one of the tallest vines and pulling hard. It didn’t come free of the wall, but as Ronan watched, the hands held on and gripped tighter and the vine shook and then split, branching into tendrils that spread out against the wall. Ronan looked to his side and the hands belonged to Noah, his head bent down, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Ronan dropped the piece of vine he’d been holding. Noah let go too, looking up at him. There was a dark smudge on his cheek that Ronan had never noticed before, and his eyes were kind.

Gansey was there, too, behind Noah. He met Ronan’s eyes over Noah’s shoulder, and Ronan realized that he’d been crying. Without a word, Gansey stepped forward and pulled Ronan into him, his strong arms wrapping tightly around Ronan’s shoulders and his chest pressing up against him.

Gansey smelled like mint. One of his hands was cradling the back of Ronan’s head. Ronan wilted, clung to him, pressed his wet cheek into the fabric of Gansey’s shirt. His mind was a white-hot scream.

Gansey pulled back but didn’t let go, his hands on Ronan’s shoulders. His eyes were bright and commanding and Ronan couldn’t look away. “After your dad died and maybe a month after you moved in, we lit a bonfire in the parking lot and burned things, all kinds of things. And then I shaved your head. Did Adam tell you that?”

Ronan shook his head. 

“Going to Blue’s family will help. We’re going to get you through this. I promise.”

Ronan closed his eyes. Gansey was asking him to let strangers see him like this. Gansey always asked so much. 

“Blue’s family is really good at what they do,” Noah said, his voice so quiet that it was almost swallowed up in the cold breeze that whipped through the parking lot. “They always help us find something important when we go to them.”

Ronan opened his eyes. “I want Matthew to come with us.”

Gansey looked surprised, but he nodded, his hands finally dropping from Ronan’s shoulders. “We can pick him up on the way.”

***

Ronan hated 300 Fox Way on sight. It looked old, lived in, and loved, and he thought immediately of the Barns and his banishment. Except, no: Adam had told him that he’d apparently fixed that, that he could return home whenever he wanted. Ronan was still reacting to the shock of being banned in the first place. 

It was late in the afternoon; Gansey hadn’t wanted to leave in the morning, suggesting instead that Ronan take time to “acclimate.” Ronan hadn’t protested, considering he was not exactly looking forward to meeting a bunch of phony psychics. He kept hearing the lecturing voice of his old Sunday School teacher, admonishing against fake religions and false idols. Ronan knew that according to his church it wasn’t right to fuck around with ouija boards, but everything else in his life was crooked and wrong, too, so he wasn’t sure how much that mattered.

He’d spent most of the day listening to Noah and Gansey filling in the gaps of Adam’s story. “It’s okay if this is all a lot to take in at once,” Gansey had said, his voice warm. “Don’t worry about keeping it all straight. Soon we’ll get your memories back and you’ll know everything yourself, anyway.”

As they parked the Pig, Ronan and Matthew climbing out of the backseat, Adam and Blue appeared in the doorway of the house. Adam briefly met Ronan’s eyes before his gaze flicked away to somewhere over Ronan’s shoulder. Blue was looking at him, too, and when Ronan looked back she frowned but did not look away.

Adam had mentioned that Blue and Gansey were dating--or maybe not, maybe they had yet to figure everything out. Ronan hadn’t paid much attention to that part of the story. But it would be obvious to Ronan even if Adam hadn’t said anything: Gansey bumped knuckles with Adam and embraced Blue, and from where he was standing Ronan could see how her hands clenched in Gansey’s shirt. It was not a short hug.

“This place is neat,” Matthew said, staring up at the top of the house. He knew about Ronan’s condition; Declan had filled him in, Ronan assumed. Being around him both helped and hurt. He seemed happier now than the last time Ronan had seen him, days after their father’s death. It made sense. 

He put a hand on the back of Matthew’s neck and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. Matthew came easily, his arm slipping around Ronan’s back as he continued to twist and look around at the psychics’ property. 

Ronan let go of him when they reached the door. Adam had disappeared inside, but Blue was still there, watching Ronan as Matthew moved past her into the hallway. Ronan stopped, and they regarded each other.

“It’s good to see you on your feet,” Blue said, and Ronan heard the careful neutrality there. It was something you’d say to anyone who’d just gotten out of the hospital. It told him nothing about her or what she was to him. It was a stark contrast to the way she’d clung to Gansey, and it pissed Ronan off.

“You live here? This place is falling apart,” he said. 

Blue’s eyes narrowed, and then her expression went blank. She shrugged one shoulder and turned around and walked down the hall to the living room, where everyone else was clustered. Ronan stared at the space where she’d been and bit down on his tongue, hard.

When he entered the room, everyone was staring at him. Ronan bared his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorjamb. “So what the fuck are we doing?”

“I’m Maura,” said the woman who looked like Blue. Pointing to a woman who looked only slightly less like Blue, she said,”and this is Calla. Adam will be helping us as well.”

Ronan glanced at Adam, standing beside Calla. Adam looked back, his clear eyes giving nothing away. “You’re psychic?”

“Something like that,” Adam said. “I can help with the reading, at any rate.”

Ronan continued looking around the room. It looked like the kind of place you’d get a psychic reading in, but it also looked like it could have been anyone’s living room if you didn’t know psychics lived here. There were a lot of knick knacks on various shelves, and between two couches and three sofa chairs there was plenty of seating. 

“Wasn’t there another psychic living here?” he asked, stalling for time. When he thought of these people looking inside him, he felt the hairs on his arms stand up. “Gwenellan, or something.”

“Ah. Gwenllian,” Gansey said. “She used to live here but she left a few weeks ago. Wanted to see more of the world.”

“More like, she didn’t want to meet Glendower,” Blue said with an eyeroll. “Anyway, we should get this started, my shift starts in an hour.” 

Everyone looked at Ronan, who looked down at the carpet, shrugging. He suspected that no matter how nonchalant he tried to be, everyone could tell that he was on edge. It made him want to set something on fire.

Adam handed a deck of cards to Blue. She shuffled them competently, and Ronan felt--not déja vu, but something. There was something familiar about her with those cards, but the familiarity didn’t set him any more at ease. 

Matthew, standing next to the doorway, turned to look at him like he’d somehow guessed Ronan’s thoughts and fears. Matthew had always had the uncanny ability to ferret out Ronan’s needs. “This is cool. Maybe we can do me next, I want to see my future.”

Ronan thought about Matthew locked in the trunk of some asshole’s car. He looked away. Blue was in front of him, holding out the cards. “I just pick one?”

“Yes, genius,” Blue said. Ronan quirked an eyebrow at her, and she quirked one back. He reached out and pulled a card.

It was the World. Maura’s hand was already out, beckoning. “Give it here.” 

She took the card, holding it with both hands and studying it with a frown. Calla peered over her shoulder. Adam looked between the card and Ronan, and the line of his mouth grew tighter.

Finally Maura looked up. “This means rebirth and opportunity,” she said, and Ronan hated the gentleness in her voice. “One of your lives is over, and a new one is beginning. It won’t do you any good to look backwards--that way lies trouble, and--”

“Give him another one,” Adam interrupted. “You must be reading it wrong, probably Blue’s energy interfered.”

“This is not a negative card,” Maura was saying, but Ronan had heard enough. He pushed off from the wall and walked down the hallway until he found himself in the kitchen. There was a man sitting there, reading the paper and drinking coffee. He looked up when he heard Ronan.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Artemus.”

Ronan could hear raised voices in the living room, Calla and Maura and Adam discussing his fate. “I don’t give a fuck,” he said.

Artemus shrugged and looked back at his paper. Adam’s voice carried above the others, “There has to be something!”

But Ronan had known it the second Maura had looked up at him from the card. There was nothing anyone could do for him, at least according to these third-rate psychic frauds. His memories were gone for good. Ronan was fucked. 

He heard footsteps behind him, one of the gang coming to console him. Ronan’s eyes scanned the room wildly and he picked up the object closest to him, a white porcelain elephant, and threw it against the opposite wall.

Artemus jumped, “Jesus--!” Ronan’s ears rang with the noise of shattering ceramic. There were more footsteps behind him now, the whole crowd coming to see what he’d done. Ronan could feel the bodies behind him, everyone quiet and staring, but he didn’t turn to see.

Calla was the first to speak. “That was Persephone’s,” she said, voice like steel. 

“Don’t know who that is,” Ronan said, although as he spoke he realized it was a lie: he remembered Adam mentioning that name. It belonged to a dead woman.

He felt fingers close around his wrist. Matthew. Gansey was at Ronan’s other side, hand on his shoulder. “Ronan. We won’t give up.” 

“Go to hell,” Ronan said, hating the vulnerable scratchiness of his own voice. He shoved off his brothers and turned, all the bodies in front of him parting to let him get to the front door. 

He stumbled out and was met with cold air. Not cold enough, he couldn’t even see his breath, Virginia winters were useless. He heard the screen door bang behind him and turned, expecting Gansey or Matthew or for some fucking reason Adam, but it was Blue.

“Adam told me about going to your room last night,” she said. She was wearing a dress that was composed primarily of black mesh, and beneath that was something purple. “I assume he told you about Persephone?”

“So what if he did,” Ronan snarled. “I doubt I gave a shit before, and I don’t now.”

Blue shook her head. “Did he tell you about the underground cavern we went to to rescue my mom? Did he tell you that you helped me get to her?”

“I don’t care,” Ronan said. What she was saying sounded familiar, at least partly--a cavern, Blue’s mom, the Third Sleeper. But it was one small part of what was all too much, too sudden, wave after wave becoming an undertow that threatened to pull him out to sea. 

“Well, I do,” Blue said. She pulled something out of a pocket of her dress. It was a strap connected to some sort of--thing. Ronan couldn’t tell what it was. “You dreamed this up and you gave it to me. It was a light, or at least, it used to be. The only light that wouldn’t go out once we were underground. It helped me find my mom and then it went out during a fight, but I kept it.”

She met his eyes, looking unsure as she held the light out to him. There was a vulnerability in her expression that Ronan somehow knew wasn’t shown to many people. Wordlessly, he took the strap attached to the light. In his hand, it glowed again.

“We were friends,” Blue said. “I mean, you called me maggot, which I hated. And I called you a shithead, which you are.”

Ronan felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so.”

Blue shrugged. “You told me so yourself.”

Ronan scratched at the back of his head. It was strange, to feel short buzzed hair there when before his hair had been so thick. He was starting to like his new look, though. “Are you dating Gansey?”

Blue’s cheeks went pink. “That’s none of your business.”

“Whatever. You should know he snores.”

“You told me that the first time you found out about us.”

Ronan swung the light, and it bumped her forearm gently. He had Gansey and Noah and he didn’t want new friends, not now, not when his grief was still a wide wet gulf within him. And he hated Blue’s house, and her dress sense. But ‘maggot’ was kind of funny. 

Gansey appeared in the doorway behind Blue, looking like a politician exhausted from a day spent negotiating for his interests. He frowned at Ronan, disappointed, and behind him were Adam and Noah and Matthew. 

“We’re leaving,” Gansey said, voice short. “That artifact you smashed was decades old, you know. Persephone didn’t leave many possessions behind.”

Would 17-year-old Ronan have apologized, was that why Gansey seemed to expect that of him now? Ronan glared back at him until Gansey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“We’re giving Adam a ride back to his place,” he said. “There’s more we can do, we can try going to Cabeswater, but--not today.” 

Cabeswater. Ronan’s flesh prickled. He had dreamed of a forest a few times before, and according to Adam that forest was real. According to Adam, they both had a bond with it. Ronan felt no hurry to see it for himself, more proof that his magic was no longer a secret but rather firmly out there in the world.

The first time he’d woken up in the hospital, he’d been face-to-face with a vulture. It had opened its mouth in a silent screech and flapped its wings, and Ronan had seen that it was wounded, blood trickling thickly from its breast. Its wings were enormous, spanning most of the small room, and a nurse had come to the doorway and screamed.

The vulture had flapped its wings again before tumbling forward, onto Ronan’s chest. Ronan had reared back but the thing wasn’t attacking, it was dying. Its claws scrabbled before it stilled, draped over Ronan. A dead carrion bird. 

The frightened nurse had demanded to know how it had gotten in, and Ronan had stammered something about it flying into the room from the hallway, he didn’t know how it had gotten into the hospital. Other nurses came in to dispose of the bird’s body and clean up the blood, shooting him alarmed looks as they worked. Fear of discovery had made Ronan’s hands shake. He hadn’t known why he was in the hospital, couldn’t remember what kind of dream the vulture had come from. 

Then sleep took him again, and when he woke up Declan was there, explaining how Ronan had hit his head while doing something stupid with his friends. Ronan hadn’t told him about the vulture. He hadn’t told anyone.

They piled into the Pig, all five of them taking up all available space. This time Matthew sat in front, with Adam and Noah and Ronan squished into the back. Noah took the middle seat, and throughout the short trip to St. Agnes Ronan could feel Adam sneaking looks over at him. He kept his eyes out the window, trees flashing past in a blur, the sun sinking low in the sky. Beside him, Noah’s cold thigh pressed into his leg, and in the front seat Matthew was talking to Gansey about his history teacher, whom Gansey remembered from his own sophomore year at Aglionby.

He wanted to see his mother. He remembered what Adam had told him: that Aurora had been a dream of his father’s, that he’d woken her by bringing her to Cabeswater, and a month ago Adam had helped him figure out how to cast a spell ensuring that she could walk away from the forest, free and independent. Now Aurora lived in a condo near downtown Henrietta, walking distance to Matthew’s dormitory. 

She hadn’t come to the hospital because she wasn’t listed as his emergency contact. It must not have occurred to Gansey to ask her to come, considering that her independence was still so new. Ronan tried not to resent him for it.

Ronan wanted to see her, but he wanted to do it alone. They dropped Adam and Matthew off, and when he and Gansey finally rolled up to Monmouth, Ronan went to his BMW. His dad’s car. He remembered it being willed to him, but he had yet to drive it.

Gansey fretted about Ronan going off by himself, and Ronan snapped that he’d only lost a couple years of memory, he wasn’t a fucking infant. Gansey still objected to Ronan driving by himself, but Ronan did it anyway, leaving him in the parking lot.

He got the condo’s address from Matthew, and parked across the street. Dusk was settling in. Ronan didn’t even know if his mom would be home, but she came to the door when he knocked.

“Darling!” she said when she saw him, and Ronan’s eyes filled with tears before he’d said a single word.

“Dad’s gone,” he said, and let her pull him into a hug.

***

That night Ronan dreamed about Adam and Blue and a blonde woman he didn’t know. She didn’t look like she was on their side, and she had a gun. She pointed it first at Blue, then at Adam, then at Ronan. Ronan felt something wet on his face and when he reached up to touch it, his fingers came away red. 

Adam and Blue both shouted his name, and the trees groaned. The ground shifted beneath him and Ronan was losing his balance, going down.

When Ronan woke up, there was something hard and uncomfortable under his cheek. He reached beneath his pillow, and pulled out a pistol. 

It wasn’t loaded. Then again, it came from his dream--it might not need to be loaded to kill someone.

Ronan hid the pistol in the back of his closet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam didn’t know how to make Ronan like him. Why had Ronan come to like him in the first place? Adam suspected that a lot of it had to do with Adam’s willingness to do things like go after Whelk, fix the ley line and frame Greenmantle. Actions prescribed by circumstance, unfortunately. Adam couldn’t very well sacrifice himself to Cabeswater a second time.

Returning to school on Monday was beyond surreal, and Adam hated it. They’d woken Glendower, they’d saved Gansey and Ronan had amnesia, yet somehow Adam still had to take a physics test. He’d never cared less about a test grade in his life.

He sat next to Ronan in Latin, and got a hostile glare in return. That was fine, Adam expected it. He smiled back, and Ronan looked away, down at his desk.

Their latin teacher, a young woman named Ms. Hancock, was refreshingly unremarkable after Greenmantle and Whelk. Adam had investigated her thoroughly when she’d started after their string of substitutes, and she seemed completely normal with no ties to Cabeswater or Niall Lynch or anything else weird.

Adam paid more attention to Ronan than he did to the lesson. Ronan was alternating between doodling something in his notebook that Adam couldn’t make out, and staring out the window. When Ms. Hancock called on him in Latin, he answered her question perfectly, the foreign words flowing from his mouth like it was nothing. 

Ronan’s cheekbones looked like they could cut Adam’s hands to ribbons if he touched them. His lips curled upward in a disdainful sneer as Ms. Hancock rolled her eyes at him and turned around to write something on the chalkboard. He was proud and poisonous and beautiful, and why had Adam waited so long?

Adam knew why. It made sense. It did not make him feel better.

Class ended, and Ronan was the first kid out the classroom door. Adam had to hurry to fall into step next to him as they walked out to the quad. “Hey,” he said, and immediately felt foolish. It had been one thing to be the one reaching out in the middle of the night in Ronan’s bedroom. It was quite another to be putting himself out there in broad daylight on the Aglionby lawn. They’d operated under unspoken rules before: when they were in school, Gansey and Ronan and Adam walked together whenever possible, and if only two of the three were present, then it was even more important to move as a unit. But now, chasing Ronan down and walking beside him without an invitation to do so was--awkward. 

Ronan cut his eyes sideways at him, then looked forward again. “Hey.”

Adam hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Do you have any questions about schoolwork, or anything? You’ve essentially skipped a grade.”

Ronan grunted. “Gansey offered to catch me up.”

“Oh.” Of course. Adam felt more foolish than before. 

Ronan scratched at his jaw. “But he’s not in my Latin class, or pre-calc.”

The two classes Adam and Ronan shared. “I’d be happy to help. Anytime. Uh, tonight I’m working though.”

“Where do you work?” Ronan’s voice was casual, neutral. It still lifted Adam’s spirits that Ronan was showing any curiosity whatsoever about him. 

“I have a couple of jobs. I work at a trailer factory, and at a local garage.”

“Car stuff?” Ronan was giving him that sideways look again, his interest careful and controlled. Adam looked forward.

“Yeah. I’m a mechanic.”

Ronan made a noncommittal noise, and they lapsed into silence. They had their lunch period right now, and were heading towards meeting Gansey in the cafeteria. Gansey must have given Ronan his schedule, and explained their usual routine.

Ronan broke the silence. “You were involved, yesterday. When those women read my card. You read it too?”

Adam nodded. He didn’t particularly want to talk about this. Thinking about the meaning he’d gleaned from Ronan’s single card still made him angry. It was wrong, it had to have been wrong.

But if it was wrong, it was an incorrect meaning that Maura and Calla had also seen. It seemed unlikely that all three of them misinterpreted the signs, as much as Adam was loathe to admit it.

“It was just one card. What did you see?”

Adam turned his words over carefully in his mind before speaking. “I didn’t see anything, not exactly. It doesn’t work like that. It’s more like--you see the card, you touch it, and you just suddenly _know._ As if someone is pouring the meaning directly into your brain.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and kicked a pebble. “Fine. So what kind of meaning did you get in your brain?”

“Rebirth,” Adam said. “That was the biggest thing, the main concept. It was telling us that you’d died and come back to life, essentially. There were other things that sort of aligned with that--like I got the sense of one door being firmly shut, and another one opening. I saw things growing. New life.”

“‘When one door shuts, another opens,’” Ronan said, his lips pulling up in an ugly, mocking sort of way. “So you guys just operate in clichés. And people pay for that?”

Adam shrugged. “People pay for the truth. Sometimes the truth is clichéd.”

Ronan’s expression clouded over. “So you think that ‘rebirth’ bullshit is real. You think there’s no going back.”

Adam’s heart twisted at the strained note in Ronan’s voice. “I didn’t say that. Fate isn’t set in stone, and we’ve changed it before. I still think we can get your memories back.”

Ronan just jerked his shoulder in what was almost a shrug, and the conversation was over. Adam remembered _trouble’s what you’re in_ \--he’d dreamed that phrase again last night, the trees first whispering it then shouting. He had no idea what it meant, and there wasn’t any real reason, aside from gut feeling, to think that it was relevant to Ronan’s situation.

It could be just a normal recurring nightmare. People had those. Just because Adam had lived in bizarro magic world for the past year and a half didn’t mean that normal things couldn’t happen to him.

Gansey’s face brightened when he saw them walking toward him. “How was Latin?”

“Fucking awful,” Ronan said, dropping himself into a chair opposite Gansey. He propped up his feet on the seat next to him, so Adam sat next to Gansey. 

Gansey nodded, not in the least surprised by Ronan’s answer. “Great. So I was thinking about what our next steps should be, as far as your memory problem.” Ronan’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt. “300 Fox Way was a bust, so I think the next logical step is Cabeswater. It loves you so much that it’s quite possible just being there will start to bring things back to the surface.”

“Why not,” Ronan said, cracking his neck. “We can’t go tonight, though, Adam has to work.”

Gansey blinked at Adam, just slightly surprised, like he’d momentarily forgotten that they could talk without him. “Right, we’ll need Adam there. Do you have tomorrow night off?”

Adam did. It was easy to sit back and let Gansey take charge, make plans, orchestrate how things were going to go down. Gansey was going to take the quest for Ronan’s memories as seriously as he’d taken the quest to find Glendower, and how could they fail?

***

Adam worked it out in his head while he was beneath a 2010 Honda Accord. He liked to think when he worked on cars; he was confident enough in the motions that he could let his imagination wander while only a small fraction of him focused on solving mechanical problems. His mind worked best when he had something to do with his hands.

Ronan’s feelings for him had disappeared along with Ronan’s memories. Adam apparently had feelings of his own, as evidenced by his extreme unhappiness at the prospect of Ronan no longer liking him. As much as Adam hoped that Cabeswater could come through on this, there was no guarantee that Ronan’s amnesia would ever heal. 

Adam could accept things as they were, and shake off the idea of being with Ronan, and do his best to move on. Or he could take the initiative.

How much had Ronan done for him since the day they met? Fighting Adam’s father, paying his rent in secret, testifying in court. Then there were the gifts: the lotion, the mixtape, the new bike tires that had shown up on Adam’s doorstep only last month. Ronan was not the type to sit back and wait for Adam to come around. He’d had a clear agenda, even if Adam hadn’t recognized it immediately.

Now Adam would have to be the one pursuing Ronan. He already knew that Ronan was capable of wanting him, he just had to get Ronan back to that point.

And he would, just as soon as he figured out how.

Adam reached out for a wrench without looking over, his fingers groping along the cement floor. He felt metal hit his palm, not like he’d found the tool, but like it had been handed to him. Glancing to the side in confusion, he saw several plant tendrils growing out of the floor and wrapping around the wrench. 

The wrench itself had been lying with his other tools, almost a foot out of Adam’s reach, before the plants had grabbed it and given it to him. As Adam stared, the tendrils released the wrench and moved back, slithering back into the ground until the only sign that they’d been there was a crack in the concrete.

Adam blinked. The crack sealed.

Adam hadn’t asked Cabeswater for anything--all he’d done was reach out for a wrench. There had been no intention or concentration whatsoever behind the movement. The only time Cabeswater worked this way was in life-saving situations, bricks falling on his head or a gun pointed at him. Not when he just needed a wrench. 

Adam shook his head and looked back up at the car’s innards. It was unsettling, but was it really that unexpected? There was some precedent. The concrete sealing--that was disturbing, that wasn’t anything that Cabeswater had previously seemed to be able to do. But Adam had already known that the fight on Saturday had augmented his powers in bizarre ways. 

He would have to test the limits, and make sure he could control it. Adam couldn’t have plants bursting out of the floor to hand him a pencil during a math test. 

He finished his work on the car quickly, and it was his last job for the night. Wiping the grease from his hands, Adam’s thoughts returned to Ronan. It was one thing to decide that he was going to pursue Ronan, but he had no idea what that should actually entail.

He didn’t know how to make Ronan like him. Why had Ronan come to like him in the first place? Adam suspected that a lot of it had to do with Adam’s willingness to do things like go after Whelk, fix the ley line and frame Greenmantle. Actions prescribed by circumstance, unfortunately. Adam couldn’t very well sacrifice himself to Cabeswater a second time.

He was still turning this question over in his mind when he fell into bed, exhausted. He lay on his back and stared up at his ceiling. Maybe a better question to ask was, why had Adam come to like _Ronan?_ It wasn’t just the gifts, the small kindnesses that Adam never would have expected from him. That had perhaps helped, had opened Adam’s eyes to the fact of Ronan’s crush, but what drew him to Ronan went deeper than that. There was the physical attraction, sure. But Adam liked Ronan because he felt like a partner in crime and an equal, someone who fundamentally understood Adam, his weakness and his ugliness, and didn’t find him wanting. Adam liked Ronan because Ronan was brave and loyal and loved loudly. He embodied so many things that were alien to Adam’s nature, and somewhere along the line Adam had begun to crave all the ways in which Ronan was so very different from him.

Adam liked Ronan because Adam _knew_ him, and maybe it was the same thing reversed. Maybe Adam just had to show Ronan who he was. 

That was a scary thought, but still, it felt like something Adam could maybe accomplish. Not that he could figure out the next steps right now, half-asleep at the end of a long Monday, but eventually. Adam rolled onto his side and listened to the sound of wind through trees and a babbling creek in the middle of a forest, lulling him to sleep.

***

Blue switched shifts with a Nino’s co-worker in order to accompany them to Cabeswater the next day. Noah was nowhere to be found. The four of them headed back to Cabeswater, and Adam wondered if they were all thinking about the last time they’d made this trip, only a few days ago when they finally found Glendower. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Adam watched Gansey in the driver’s seat, his broad shoulders, his fingers drumming along to the music on the steering wheel, his white teeth flashing in a grin. Gansey was alive. They’d kept him alive. Adam and Gansey and Blue would all be attending college in the fall, an unthinkable concept just a few days ago that was now wonderfully real.

Ronan hadn’t turned in any college applications, and Adam had no idea what he’d do when fall came.

Adam watched Ronan carefully as they approached Cabeswater’s edge. Ronan was looking around with narrowed eyes, mistrustful. 

“Do you remember anything?” Adam asked, cautious. “Not from being here--I mean, from your dreams. You used to see Cabeswater in your dreams a lot.”

Ronan looked at Adam like he’d forgotten Adam was there. “It just looks like a forest,” he said, voice clipped. “I’ve dreamed about forests before.”

As soon as they stepped into the tree line, it got warmer. Gansey removed his Aglionby sweater and draped it over his arm. Adam had left his sweater in the car, and Ronan hadn’t been wearing his when they left. Blue shrugged out of her denim jacket, and waved Gansey away when he offered to carry it for her.

“I think,” Gansey said, turning to Adam. “We ought to take him to that rock first. You know, the one he wrote on?”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. Ronan turned to Adam with questions in his eyes, and Adam realized that they were waiting for him to lead the way.

Adam didn’t know where to go. They had only come across the rock that very first time; it wasn’t as if Cabeswater had trails that led anywhere. 

But Adam was the Magician, and they all expected him to get Cabeswater to work. He crouched down and put his hands on the mossy forest floor, concentrating on his memory of Ronan’s words on that boulder.

He felt the forest respond. The hairs on Adam’s neck stood on end, and the ground beneath his hands and feet suddenly disappeared. It was like he was falling through space, through time, and he couldn’t see anything but he knew that his friends were falling with him. Adam opened his mouth (he didn’t have a mouth or a body or _anything_ ) to scream, and--

Just as suddenly as the world had disappeared, it reappeared. Adam was still crouched, Blue was still in front of him and Ronan and Gansey were at either side. 

Adam sprang to his feet, though he was dizzy and lightheaded. “What the fuck?” Ronan said, and all three of his friends were staring at him.

The rock with the Latin joke was right in front of them.

“Adam,” Blue said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “Did you just--teleport us?”

It was a good question. Adam looked around. These were different trees, different bushes. They were unmistakably not where they had been a few seconds ago, and they certainly hadn’t walked here.

“I guess I did,” Adam said.

“You’ve never done that before, have you?” Gansey said slowly, like he was a doctor talking to a patient.

Adam frowned at him. “No.”

“Freak,” Ronan said, turning away from him. Adam was annoyed, but could recognize it as Ronan’s way of taking the attention off of him. “So tell me about this rock.”

The words were still there--the joke in Latin, Cabeswater’s name, all in Ronan’s handwriting. Adam let Gansey explain it. 

“Maybe things would start coming back to you if you touched it?” Gansey finished. “Especially if you touch it while Adam does--uh--” Gansey wiggled his fingers, which Adam supposed was meant to signify Adam doing his magic.

Adam sighed, and stepped forward to stand next to Ronan, who was already crouching down and touching the letters. “Sure.” He had no idea what he was asking Cabeswater to do, how to phrase this request: please bring Ronan’s memories back. Please help him. Please make Ronan the way he was.

A thought occurred to Adam that made his blood turn to ice. What if Cabeswater misinterpreted Adam’s request? What if it reached beneath the surface of Adam’s intentions and found Adam’s secondary wish, and planted feelings for Adam in Ronan’s head? 

Cabeswater often reacted to Adam’s gut feeling rather than his explicit request. And it had been giving him so much power lately. Cabeswater could absolutely give Ronan his memories back while simultaneously planting feelings in his heart, and Adam might never know whether Ronan wanted him for real or whether Adam had subconsciously controlled him, remaking him to love Adam the way Aurora had been made to love Niall Lynch. It was not an irrational fear.

“Actually,” Adam said, the words sticking in his throat. He stepped back, away from the rock and Ronan. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t tell Cabeswater to do--anything. It’s too dangerous.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ronan said, at the same time Gansey asked, “Why?”

Adam shook his head. “My powers have been different lately. You all felt it just now, it’s not like teleportation was part of the deal before Glendower. If I tell Cabeswater to fix Ronan’s memories, it could--I don’t know, replace his personality or brainwash him or worse.”

Gansey looked skeptical. “But Cabeswater loves Ronan. It wouldn’t hurt him.”

“It’s a magical forest, I don’t know how it’s going to define ‘hurting’ him. Ronan--” Adam turned to see Ronan looking up at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you want to experiment with how Cabeswater decides it’s going to fix you? Do you want to risk becoming brain dead, or getting turned into, I don’t know, a fucking dryad?”

Ronan looked back at the rock, tracing the letters. Adam waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. Adam looked at Gansey and Blue. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “But I won’t risk it.”

Blue nodded. Gansey looked like he wanted to argue, but kept his mouth shut. Looking back to Ronan, he asked, “Are you getting anything from the words? Any kind of memory?”

Ronan pressed his thumb against the ‘C’ of Cabeswater. “I wrote this?”

“Yes,” Gansey said. “During a dream. You told us.” 

Ronan was quiet, his hand against stone. Eventually he stood up, and looked back at them. “I don’t remember dick.” 

Gansey’s face fell. “All right. Well--there might be something else around here that could help. Adam, really, there’s nothing you can do?”

Adam hated the look Gansey gave him, as if Adam was holding out on them. Ronan wasn’t looking at him at all. “No. There’s really not.”

“You can’t predict Cabeswater at the best of times,” Blue pointed out. “Remember when we thought it was going to send a swarm of hornets after Gansey? I think Adam’s right, we don’t want to ask it to perform the equivalent of brain surgery.”

Adam reached out to give her fingers a grateful squeeze. Gansey’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Still--there are other parts of the forest that might trigger memories, maybe if we go to Noah’s grave--”

“No. I’m done here,” Ronan said. He turned back to Adam. “Can you teleport us back to the car, or are you too scared to try?”

The remark stung. Adam gritted his teeth and crouched down again, putting both hands on the grass like he’d done the first time. He closed his eyes, and thought about the Pig. Then he remembered that the Pig was outside the boundaries of Cabeswater, and tried to think about the edge of the forest instead--

The world fell away. Adam’s body fell away. Everything was terrifying for less than a second, and then Adam felt gravel beneath him.

“Wow,” Blue said. Adam stood up and stared at the Pig’s hood. He felt a little nauseous. 

“Interesting. So you can do it beyond Cabeswater’s edges,” Gansey said, voicing Adam’s own observation.

Ronan clapped him on the back. “I’m never driving to school again,” he said. When Adam glanced at him, he looked delighted. 

“I don’t know if I can use it to get us to and from school,” Adam said, although why was he objecting when Ronan seemed impressed? It didn’t seem to matter--Ronan’s hand lingered on his back, moving up until his thumb brushed the back of Adam’s neck before the touch went away. Adam suppressed a shiver.

“Sure you can,” Ronan said. Gansey was unlocking the driver’s side and Blue headed around to the front, leaving Adam and Ronan together in the backseat. “You’ve just got to click your heels and think, ‘no place like Aglionby.’”

“But all that really did was wake Dorothy up,” Blue said, twisting around in the front seat to talk to them as Gansey started the car. “So really, isn’t that more your domain, Ronan?”

Ronan shrugged. “I don’t have any red heels. It’s not my color.”

“I’ll bet Orla could lend you a pair. Her feet are probably as big as yours.”

Adam let himself enjoy the moment as Gansey navigated them towards home. Ronan almost seemed like himself again, talking with them without hostility or suspicion. He seemed like the same person who’d gone with them to wake Glendower, who’d fought at Adam’s side when everything went pear-shaped. 

The spell broke when they pulled up to 300 Fox Way. Adam could feel Ronan’s tension ratcheting up beside him as the house came into view, and when they parked to let Blue out Ronan was sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window so Adam couldn’t see his face. Blue twisted around to say goodbye, and her words to Ronan were met with stony silence. 

Adam smiled at her. “Bye. See you soon, hopefully.”

Blue was frowning at Ronan, but turned to return Adam’s smile. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Adam watched Gansey watch her as she entered her house. Would he be calling her later? Would he return by himself tonight to take her out? It seemed likely, from the way he was looking now. 

Adam had noticed the thing between Gansey and Blue months ago, but hadn’t let himself think about it (much) while they were hunting for Glendower and trying to save Gansey. There had been too much going on, and he hadn’t wanted to spoil what could have been his last few months with his best friend by getting angry at him over another best friend. 

When he poked at his feelings about them now, he found that he wasn’t as angry or sad about it as he once would have been. It didn’t feel like any kind of judgment on him personally that Blue had fallen in love with Gansey, and he didn’t feel disrespected by Gansey returning her feelings. 

It hurt that neither of them had talked to him about it yet, but Adam thought of all the conversations with either of them that had turned into fights, and knew why.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ronan said, glaring at Gansey, who stiffened and turned his eyes hastily away from Blue and back to the road. 

The next stop was Adam’s place, but when they were two blocks away Ronan leaned forward and said, “Stop the car.”

Gansey pulled over. “What is it? Have you remembered something?”

“No, dumbass. I’m just getting out here.”

For a second Adam thought that Ronan meant to go over to Adam’s apartment, but then he realized there was a liquor store on the corner. Gansey had clearly noticed the same thing, looking from the liquor store to Ronan then back to the store.

“I can wait in the car for you to get what you want,” Gansey said, but Ronan was already shaking his head.

“The walk will do me good,” he said, one of his more snakelike smiles gracing his lips. Adam could clearly picture Ronan wandering Henrietta side streets with a bottle of something awful in a paper bag, maybe avoiding cops or maybe getting hauled in for drinking on the sidewalk. 

“It’s a weeknight,” Gansey said, pleading. “You have class tomorrow, early. Do you really want to be hungover for that?”

Ronan had already opened the car door, his legs swinging out. “Don’t wait up,” he said, and then he was gone.

Gansey and Adam watched Ronan walk down the street and into the liquor store. Gansey’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. 

“You know how he is,” Adam said, trying to sound reassuring. “He just has a lot to work through right now.”

“Fuck.” The word was so harsh and unexpected coming from Gansey, out of place and strange in his son-of-a-politician voice. “From his perspective, his dad died a week ago. I didn’t know how to help him then, and I don’t know how to help him now.”

Adam curled his fingers around the edge of the backseat. Neither Gansey nor Ronan had ever talked to him about the time after Niall’s death. Adam had always figured that that whole period was locked away from him for good. 

“But you did help him then,” Adam said, because although he hadn’t been there he knew it was true. “And I’m sure you’re helping him now, too. He needs you.”

Did Ronan need Adam, right now? Probably not. Adam swallowed the sour thought down.

Gansey sighed and shifted the Pig into gear, pulling away from the curb. “Maybe. He hasn’t been talking to me much. And I can’t force him to go to class tomorrow.”

“You never could,” Adam said, and Gansey breathed out a short rueful laugh, shaking his head. He met Adam’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and Adam gave him as much of a smile as he could.

His apartment felt emptier than usual after Gansey dropped him off. Adam sat heavily down on the edge of his bed, and pulled out his phone before the idea was fully cemented in his mind.

_if you get sick of being drunk and disorderly out there, you know where my apartment is._

Adam sent the text before he could think better of it. He stared at his phone, uncomfortably aware of the tightness in his chest. This wasn’t like him, he was usually so careful with his communication, and now it was too late. Ronan could read so many different things into the offer Adam had just made, and Adam had no control over how his words would be taken.

Well, fuck it. He sent another one without waiting for a reply. _i have an air mattress you can sleep on too. it wouldn’t be the first time. you crashed here a few times last year._

Adam tossed his phone back and forth between his hands, then groaned and fell back onto the bed. There was no point in waiting for Ronan to text back, Ronan never texted back and Adam knew this about him, but Adam could feel his body wound up in hopeful anticipation regardless. Stupid, _stupid._

Adam didn’t lie there waiting for long. It was only eight pm, and he had homework to do. He threw himself into his reading, and pretended that he wasn’t waiting for his phone to vibrate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air between them hummed, charged and ready for--Ronan had no idea. He was far too drunk to parse anything, but he found himself leaning in a wobbly sort of way towards Adam. He licked his lips. “You and me. Were we good friends?”
> 
> Adam took in a sharp breath, and lowered his eyes. The air stopped humming. “You were good friends with all four of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with an emetophobia warning. There's also underage drinking and mentions of religion.

Ronan was enjoying himself. There were a couple new storefronts that he didn’t recognize, but otherwise Henrietta looked the same as ever. There were only a few pedestrians out, and none of them met his eyes when they passed. He knew what he looked like with his brown bottle bag, and it gave him perverse pleasure to still be wearing his Aglionby uniform. 

He felt hyper aware of the shape of his phone in his pocket. He didn’t know what to do with that fucking weird invitation from Adam, so he was ignoring it.

He had dreamed himself a fake ID months ago, before he’d met Gansey. This was the first time he’d actually tested it out (that he could remember), and it had worked flawlessly. Ronan now had a small bottle of Jack Daniels and he’d been walking for two hours. His feet had yet to get tired.

Ronan had gotten drunk before, but only a few times, and usually with company--the few Aglionby friends he’d made before Gansey, and then with Gansey. The night Ronan’s dad died and his mom went to sleep, Ronan had told Gansey that he wanted to drink until he blacked out, and Gansey hadn’t argued. 

Ronan had not blacked out that night. He remembered the whole thing clearly. He didn’t know what it was like to black out from drinking, despite his best efforts. 

Was it anything like waking up and finding out that you’d forgotten two years?

After the moon rose, Ronan found his feet taking him in a particular direction. He considered veering from this course when he realized where he was headed, but fuck it, why not. He’d missed his dad’s funeral, but St. Agnes was where it would have taken place. Going there now would be a bite that drew blood from his skin, and Ronan wanted his veins to run dry.

Alcohol made his thoughts swim like guppies when he arrived at the entrance to the chapel. It made no sense for the doors to be unlocked, yet they opened when he tried. The chapel was dark, musty and huge, and Ronan imagined it filled with his father’s friends from all over the world. Declan had mostly been handling the funeral arrangements, but Ronan had caught some of the details here and there. 

Declan had asked Ronan if he wanted to speak during the ceremony, and he had declined. 

Ronan felt like a god damn time traveler. He couldn’t get the thought from his mind that if it was possible for him to be launched forward, surely it was possible for him to go back.

He trailed his hand along the tops of the pews as he walked down the aisle. The bottle of jack swung from his other hand; he hadn’t taken a sip since deciding upon this destination. Images formed in the shadows when he looked, disappearing before he could make out any specific shapes, but wings seemed to be implied.

There was an organ up there somewhere, at the front of the church next to the raised daise. There was another on the second floor, where the choir sang. Ronan had taken piano lessons as a child, at his mother’s request and not for very long. He’d played the bagpipes for longer, well into his middle school years. There were only a few songs that he could still remember how to play on a keyboard.

Ronan thought of how the sound of the organ would carry, ringing out in the chapel and almost certainly audible in the apartment upstairs. It was late and it was a weeknight and Adam struck him as the kind of nerd who went to bed early, attending class well-rested in the morning. Ronan sat down in one of the pews and let go the idea of the organ.

There was a bible nestled in the pew rack in front of him. Ronan set his bottle down and picked up the book, flipping through it idly. He couldn’t think of a single passage that might be helpful to his present situation. But he thought of sitting next to his father during Christmas mass as a child and knew he hungered for something, some sort of sign that he hadn’t been abandoned by every guiding force in his life. He’d lost his father and he’d lost time and he didn’t want to lose this as well. 

Oddly, his thoughts flashed upon the pistol he’d dreamed up. When he was eleven, he’d asked his father if his dream objects were gifts from god. His father had laughed hard and then pulled Ronan into a hug that crushed his ribs. 

“It depends on the dream,” was all he’d said. A few months later (Ronan remembered the timing of this because it had been the day after his twelfth birthday), the night terrors came to him for the first time. 

He put the bible back and picked up his bottle instead. He was still new to the taste of whiskey and found it so foul that he had to work to swallow it down, which he liked. Punishing one sense while dulling all others. Something about that struck him as fair. 

He hadn’t been sitting for long when he heard the doors creak behind him. Twisting to look over his shoulder, Ronan saw Adam’s silhouette in the church doorway. 

Ronan raised his bottle in greeting. Adam shut the doors behind him and walked down the center aisle, stopping when he got to Ronan’s pew. Ronan tilted back to look at him, letting his neck stretch and his head loll. 

“How did you know I was here?”

A strange expression shifted on Adam’s face. “I felt it. Cabeswater.”

Ronan didn’t know what the hell that meant, but he knew Adam was magic. Adam was the first magic person Ronan had met that he wasn’t related to, and it was unnerving. Ronan could dream up anything he wanted, but teleportation was well the fuck beyond him. 

Ronan gestured to the space next to him, and Adam sat. He looked uncomfortable, and maybe it was Ronan or maybe it was the church--Ronan didn’t know him well enough to be sure. He offered Adam the bottle, but Adam shook his head.

“I don’t drink.”

“Suit yourself.” Ronan took a swig. It made things tilt. He was drunk enough already for this particular gulp to be overkill.

He needed to visit his dad’s grave. It would be at the Barns, which Ronan had yet to visit as his new 17-year-old self. The thought of returning home made Ronan’s stomach lurch, but he wanted it, he wanted it.

“Listen,” Adam was saying, and it took effort for Ronan to swing his attention back around to him. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t use my powers to try and fix your memory. It’s not--”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Ronan said, cutting him off. “Jesus Christ, man.”

Adam looked away. “Sure.”

Ronan took another drink. Everything was starting to swirl and it was tempting to let his body list sideways until he was lying down on the pew cushion. Maybe if he fell asleep here he’d dream up something awful enough to burn this whole place down. 

Adam lived here. But Adam was a freak wizard and could probably save his apartment somehow, regardless of what kind of horror Ronan dreamed up.

“You said I’ve crashed at your place before,” Ronan said. “Why?”

Adam looked back over at him. “Why did you crash with me, or why did I tell you?”

Ronan felt warm all over. “Both.”

A smile flickered onto Adam’s face. “You would come over here to do homework sometimes. Actually, it was more like I did homework and you got drunk on my floor and harassed me until you fell asleep. Eventually you dreamed up an air mattress so you didn’t have to sleep right on the floor. I still have it. It’s pink.”

Ronan laughed, the noise escaping him before he could rein it in. “I dreamed you something pink? Sure you didn’t get it in the little girl’s section at Wal-mart?”

“I’m sure.” Adam rolled his shoulders, stretching out his neck. Ronan watched the line of his throat. “As for why I told you. I’m just doing my part to help fill in the blanks in your memory.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. Adam hesitated, then continued. “And. I texted you that because I thought it would be better for you to come over than to continue stumbling drunk around Henrietta.”

Even as intoxicated as he was, Ronan could tell that Adam’s words, his offer, were somehow significant. The air between them hummed, charged and ready for--Ronan had no idea. He was far too drunk to parse anything, but he found himself leaning in a wobbly sort of way towards Adam. He licked his lips. “You and me. Were we good friends?”

Adam took in a sharp breath, and lowered his eyes. The air stopped humming. “You were good friends with all four of us.”

It wasn’t a lie but it was not the truth, which irritated Ronan. He pulled a face at Adam, who didn’t see it because he was looking down at his hands. Ronan took another drink, which was a bad idea, or maybe a great one--all of his emotions were dulled and pointless, and his thoughts refused to substantiate. He didn’t have a mind, he was just a collection of limbs that didn’t work very well.

“How much of that have you had?” Adam reached over and plucked the bottle out of Ronan’s hands. It was a sign of his inebriation that Ronan let him. “Jesus. This thing is more than half empty.”

Ronan shrugged. “I didn’t buy it just to look at it.”

Adam stood, hanging on to the bottle. He reached out a hand to Ronan, and Ronan stared at his palm. “I think you should come upstairs.”

“You’re not my dad,” Ronan said, although Adam was not acting like his dad. He was acting like Gansey, which they both knew. 

Adam sighed. “I know. It’s up to you, you can pass out here if you want. My air mattress is at least a little more comfortable.”

Adam’s palm was criss-crossed with lines, and Ronan wondered if Blue’s mom had ever given him a palm reading. Did palm lines even signify anything? Maybe that was a fake magic thing, as opposed to the real magic things taking over Ronan’s life. 

Ronan took his hand and let Adam pull him up. Adam was pretty strong, and steadied Ronan with a hand on his chest when he stumbled getting to his feet. They froze like that for a moment, Adam’s hand warm against Ronan’s sternum, and Ronan wondered if Adam could feel his heartbeat.

Then Adam’s hand dropped and the moment passed. “Do you need me to carry you?”

It was said with sarcasm, but Ronan might actually need it; walking seemed like an uncertain concept at the moment. The room was really spinning now, and Ronan’s legs felt cumbersome.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ronan said, but he didn’t object when Adam draped Ronan’s arm over his shoulders. They walked down the aisle like that, Adam’s arm around Ronan’s waist and Adam’s neck fitting in the crook of Ronan’s arm. When they got to the stairs that led up to Adam’s apartment, Adam carefully disentangled himself (the stairs were too narrow for them to walk shoulder to shoulder), but kept hold of Ronan’s hand.

“Do you hold hands with guys a lot?” Ronan asked, alcohol having obliterated his inhibitions. He meant it to be mocking, but it just came out curious.

Adam dropped Ronan’s hand when they reached the second story, pushing open his front door. “I hold hands with drunk guys who’d fall over otherwise all the time.”

Ronan leaned against the wall while Adam blew up the air mattress (which really was pink). The apartment, with its crates and textbooks and Adam’s mattress on the floor, was objectively kind of depressing but Ronan was surprised to find that he felt--comfortable. Relaxed. Almost fond of the space.

Maybe he was half-remembering those times he’d been here before, according to Adam. Maybe getting himself drunk or otherwise into an altered state was the key to his amnesia. 

Or maybe he was just a drunk fuck who’d feel affectionate about any port in the storm. Ronan pushed himself off the wall with some effort and pointed his stumbling feet toward the kitchen, banging open cupboards until he found a clean plastic cup. Gansey’s voice lectured in his head about hydration and responsibility while he poured himself a glass of water and drank, unsteady.

When he got back to the living room, Adam looked up at him, his eyes clear and sober. Light brown hair fell over Adam’s forehead and Ronan’s hazardous mind zeroed in on the shape of his mouth. Adam’s mouth, which was saying words: “Are you going to puke?”

Was he? Ronan examined himself as best he could. He didn’t think he was that kind of drinker, or at least he hoped not. He shook his head.

“Good.” Adam stood, crossing the room to grab a blanket and pillow and tossing them on the air mattress. “Here. All ready for you when you’re ready to pass out.”

Ronan was ready to pass out now. He set his cup down on the nearest crate, took two steps and fell forward, face-planting onto the pillow.

“At least take off your shoes,” Adam said, his voice far off. 

“Take ‘em off for me,” Ronan mumbled, more into the pillow than out loud. His eyes were already closing.

“No,” he heard Adam say, and then he was out.

***

Ronan felt ludicrously fucking bad as soon as he was conscious. His head was like a god damn hammer factory and his digestive system was in open rebellion. He lurched off the air mattress and made for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He did not immediately puke, but stayed bent over the toilet regardless. Bright colored lights were shooting off behind his eyes, and the cold floor beneath his knees felt thankfully grounding.

Ronan belatedly realized that he wasn’t wearing shoes. 

A knock came on the door, followed by Adam’s voice. “You all right?”

Ronan’s fingers clenched on the toilet seat. A wave of nausea threatened to unseat him. “Fucking no!”

“Do you need any, uh. Help?”

“Fuck off!”

Adam was silent for a while, and Ronan focused on breathing. He hated puking, and he’d never thrown up from a hangover before. Although that might have changed in the past two years, who the hell knew. 

Adam’s voice returned. “It’s only 6:45. We have enough time to pick up your school things from Monmouth and still get to class on time.”

Ronan puked. He knew Adam could hear him retching, which was humiliating. Why had he chosen to spend the night here instead of in the church? If he’d slept on a pew he’d probably be puking in the gutter right now, which would have been preferable.

Ronan sat back when he was finished, slumping against the wall. His mouth tasted terrible. For a second he wondered if maybe Adam kept a toothbrush here for him--but no, that would be weird, that was edging fully into couple territory.

And surely someone would have mentioned it, if he and Adam had been a couple.

Ronan pressed the heels of his hands to his eye sockets. His hungover mind was visiting some strange places. He wanted to get out of here, he wanted to be in his own bed. And when he thought of his own bed, he still immediately pictured his bedroom at the Barns, not Monmouth. Shit.

When Ronan finally got up and left the bathroom, Adam was waiting for him with Advil and a glass of water. Ronan downed the pills gratefully, his body still shaky and weak from throwing up. 

“Sorry you’re feeling shitty,” Adam said. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Ronan drank the water in careful sips, not wanting to gulp down too much in case it triggered his guts heaving again. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to class.”

Adam didn’t argue with him, just shrugged. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a faded blue t-shirt with a hole at the collar. Somehow it was weird seeing him like this, and Ronan looked away. 

Already Adam didn’t seem like someone Ronan had only met a few days ago. Maybe that was the point--they apparently had a whole history together, and maybe Ronan was starting to get the gist of that. 

Or maybe he was just fooling himself. Adam turned away, taking Ronan’s glass back into the kitchen. Ronan sat down on the air mattress and considered puking again. 

His phone lay on the floor next to the mattress, and of course he had a whole string of missed texts and calls from Gansey. The last one was sent at 10:30 last night, which was probably about when Adam had found Ronan. 

Adam had probably texted Gansey, letting him know that Ronan was in good hands. This bothered Ronan less than it might have before he’d spent the night in Adam’s apartment.

The air mattress squeaked as Adam sat down beside him. “How much of last night do you remember?”

“All of it,” Ronan said, dropping his phone back on the floor. “I don’t usually forget stuff when I drink.”

“Oh.” Adam seemed faintly embarrassed, and Ronan didn’t know why--Adam was not the one who’d made an ass of himself last night. Ronan, on the other hand, had practically needed to be tucked into bed. 

However. Adam _had_ been awfully willing to do the tucking. Ronan poked at Adam’s knee. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Adam glanced away, staring out the window at the church parking lot. “Plenty of reasons. It wouldn’t be that weird to you, if you had your memories back.”

“Well, I don’t, and it is.”

Adam frowned, still looking everywhere but at Ronan. “The last time you and me were in St. Agnes--I told you about framing Greenmantle with evidence you dreamed up, but I may have skimmed this part.”

Adam hesitated, and the quiet stretched out between them. “And?” Ronan prompted. “What part?”

“I was present when you dreamed up the evidence,” Adam said. “It was just the two of us, alone at night in the chapel. When you woke up, you had the evidence, but there was also a… another Ronan.”

“Holy shit,” Ronan breathed. “I dreamed up a fucking _clone?_ ”

Adam nodded, his gaze finally settling back on Ronan. “The other you was badly wounded. You said that in your dream, night horrors were after you, and you came up with him so that they’d attack him instead of you. It worked, I guess, and. The other you died almost immediately after you brought him to life.”

Now it was Ronan who looked out at the rest of the apartment because looking at Adam was suddenly too much. A shaft of light came in through the window on the far wall, and Ronan watched dust motes swirl. “You saw me die.”

“Yeah. I did.” Adam’s weight shifted on the mattress. “Anyway. That’s my chief memory of St. Agnes’ chapel. So when I felt you down there last night, I just…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Ronan could guess. He hadn’t wanted Ronan to be alone. 

It was too much to handle right after puking up everything in his stomach. Ronan scrubbed a hand over his head and continued to not look at Adam. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school?”

Adam didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed and stood up. “Yeah. I should. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. Just make sure you lock the door when you leave.”

“Sure.” Ronan laid back down, turned to face the wall and closed his eyes. He could hear Adam moving around the apartment, stepping into the bathroom to shower. He wasn’t able to fall back asleep until Adam was gone, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

***

That afternoon, after Ronan had dragged his sorry carcass back to Monmouth but before Gansey had arrived home, Declan called him. Ronan did not pick up. Then Matthew called him, and Ronan nearly hung up when he heard Declan on the other line.

“Has your little group of superheroes been able to help you at all?” Declan asked. Ronan seriously considered throwing his phone across the room.

“It’s so fitting that you’re in D.C. now,” Ronan drawled, flopping back onto Gansey’s bed as he talked. “Fuck Washington.”

Declan’s frustrated sigh carried over the phone and turned into a crackle of static. “I’m serious. There is something really medically wrong with you. You wanted to go with your friends so I let you--”

“You did not _let_ me do jack shit--”

“--but if they can’t help, you have to give the doctors a shot. They barely got a chance to diagnose you while you were in the hospital, at the very least you have to let them give you an MRI. What if you have a brain tumor?”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Ronan said. “And I don’t have a brain tumor, you asshole. I hit my head.”

“Do you have any idea how unusual amnesia of this kind is? I do, I’ve done my research. It could signify very bad news.”

Ronan tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Gansey’s bed met in the expensive middle of soft and firm, designed to make sleep easy. Ronan found it somehow satisfying that Gansey had a bed like this yet slept even less than Ronan. He liked the ways in which Gansey was difficult.

Ronan thought about saying, _I hit my head on a rock while using a dream army to fight a legend and there is no way this isn’t magic._ But Declan wouldn’t get it and also, Ronan didn’t care what Declan thought about his amnesia or anything else. 

“Arlington has some of the top neurosurgeons in the world,” Declan was saying. “Not that you’re going to need surgery, but they’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Ronan’s temper sparked. “I make things from my dreams! How do you think that shows up in an MRI, do you think that part of my brain glows fucking purple?”

Ronan could picture Declan on the other end so clearly, probably pacing in his dorm room, his grip tightening on his phone and his face caught in a scowl. “Just because Dad didn’t trust doctors doesn’t mean you have to take after him.”

Ronan sprang up from where he’d been sitting on the couch, now pacing furiously himself. “Fuck you. Don’t bring Dad into this.”

“I’m just _saying_ \--”

“Yeah, I fucking get it.” Ronan’s fingers buzzed, and each breath he took felt unnaturally hot in his lungs. “I get that Dad died two years ago so you’ve got some distance, but guess what, I don’t have that distance.” 

Declan was quiet. Ronan squeezed his eyes shut. At the count of ten he was going to hang up. One, two, three--

“I’m sorry,” Declan said, so formally that Ronan almost wanted to laugh. “I realize that it’s still quite--raw, for you. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Ronan blinked hard against the heat in his eyeballs. He wasn’t about to cry on the phone to Declan, of all people. “Whatever.”

“You need to get your memory back, Ronan. This isn’t just a problem you can coast through and do nothing about. You’ve got to be proactive and fix this.”

And there went the risk of tears, because now Ronan was just pissed. “Thanks for that insight. Why don’t you proactively climb up your own asshole.” 

Ronan hung up and did not throw his phone across the room, but it was a near thing. He stood in the middle of Monmouth, a model of Nino’s at his feet, and dug his fingernails into the meat of his forearm. The stitches on his forehead itched and his body felt caught and coiled.

“Fuck doctors,” he said to the empty space.

“Yeah,” said Noah from the doorway to Ronan’s bedroom. Ronan jumped despite himself.

He stared at Noah. Noah stared back, his bambi eyes wide. What memories did Ronan have of Noah? He mostly knew him as simply Gansey’s roommate, only just recently becoming Ronan’s roommate as well. But they’d talked, hadn’t they? Or hung out, or at least Noah had been present when Ronan had hung out with Gansey. Right?

It was impossible for Ronan to pin down anything specific. It made so much goddamn sense that Noah was a ghost that Ronan wanted to scream.

“How long have you been there?” Ronan asked.

Noah shrugged. “I was always here, but I wasn’t listening.”

“Don’t lie.”

Noah’s eyes flicked to the side. “Declan is a dick.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Ronan tossed his phone onto the couch, all the fight gone out of him. He was so tired, and while his hangover had passed his body still felt like it needed a reset button.

Noah crossed the room until he was right in front of Ronan. “You threw me out of a window once. Did Adam tell you that?”

Ronan rubbed his eyes. “Are you expecting an apology?”

Noah laughed, and it sounded like wind through reeds. “No. It didn’t hurt. I’m dead.”

“I didn’t forget.” Ronan turned and threw himself down on the couch, on top of his phone. Noah sat down next to him, sitting forward on the cushions, his elbows on his knees.

“What else?” Ronan asked. There was something about Noah that made him feel safe in a weird way, like Ronan could be an asshole around him or not be an asshole and neither one mattered much. “Tell me stuff.”

Noah smiled, again reminding Ronan of a singing woodland creature. “You took The Pig on a joyride once, while Gansey was away.”

Ronan’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

Noah laughed. “Yeah. I was with you. It went so badly. You raced Kavinsky and lost--”

“No _way_ \--”

“And then two of your night terrors attacked us. And I, um” Noah made an odd little throat-clearing noise. He looked shy, and Ronan got the distinct impression that Noah didn’t want to be the one who told Ronan about this, but he did want Ronan to know. “I fought one of the night terrors, on the roof of your car.”

“Shit.” Thinking about the night terrors coming out of his dreams scared Ronan in a blood-curdling way that he hadn’t felt since he was a child, afraid of monsters under his bed (a fear that had been less irrational for him than it was for most children). 

Noah nodded, like he could read Ronan’s thoughts. Maybe he could? “Yeah. It was bad. Then you crashed the Pig and Kavinsky shot the other night terror. Then you went off with Kavinsky and I don’t know what happened after that.”

Ronan had been avoiding thinking about Kavinsky. Kavinsky was just an asshole who somehow had Ronan’s phone number, just a Bulgarian mobster dickhead that Ronan raced sometimes. It made him uneasy to think about them becoming--close, in some way. Uneasy to think that Kavinsky had been like him and his father all along.

Ronan couldn’t let himself reach the end of this line of thought, couldn’t contemplate Matthew getting kidnapped or Kavinsky killing himself. It exhausted him to think about how things could have possibly gone that horribly wrong. When he closed his eyes he still saw his father’s brains on the floor, there was no space to think about how one of the numbers in his phone now connected to a dead boy. 

Kavinsky hadn’t even texted him that often. Although, Ronan realized with a start, if he looked at those texts now he would see all the communication that had taken place during the period he couldn’t remember.

The idea made him want to drop his phone out of Monmouth’s second-story window. He directed his attention back to Noah. “So when you say you fought one of my night terrors, what do you mean? Fought it like how?”

Noah looked embarrassed. “Um, I kind of wrestled it? I got it off of the car and onto the ground. Then you ran us both over.”

“Damn.” Ronan felt nervous laughter bubble up inside him, although nothing about the story was all that funny. He’d been spending most of his time since waking up at age seventeen listening to his friends tell him strange stories; it was like he’d somehow grown so much older while simultaneously regressing to a child, listening to his dad spinning narratives at bedtime. “Did that hurt?”

Noah shrugged. “Kind of but not really? I can feel things, but not… not in the same way as I could when I was alive.”

Ronan reached out and let his hand rest on Noah’s arm. It was cold. He hadn’t expected that but it made sense, of course. “My night terrors don’t fuck around.” 

He didn’t say that he thought Noah was brave or that he was impressed, but Noah sat up a little straighter. “They were bad,” he said. “That wasn’t even the only time we had to deal with them. But you stopped bringing them to life a while ago, I think.”

It was still so hard for Ronan to accept that all these people knew about his secret. It was harder to accept that he’d inflicted monsters that had haunted him since childhood upon them--upon Gansey, upon Noah. He dropped his hand from Noah’s arm, and somehow that made his fingers even colder.

“But you created a dragon that saved you and Gansey and Blue and Matthew,” Noah said, again acting like Ronan’s thoughts were an open book to him. “Then your dreams fought for us again in Cabeswater, just a few days ago. You have more control than you think.”

Ronan stood up, and headed for his room. “I did, you mean,” he said, and shut the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gansey had been impressed and delighted with Adam's power at first, then concerned. Noah, of course, was afraid. Blue was wary. Ronan seemed to find it darkly funny, and he was starting to look at Adam in the way that Adam had once gotten used to: like he wanted Adam to be arrogant with him, wanted Adam to laugh about it too, because they were both magicians and capable of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have sort of belatedly realized that I gave all sorts of characters cell phones who don't have those in canon. Sorry? Whatever, it's future fic, let's say that everyone let Gansey give them a cell phone for christmas because they thought he was going to die any minute.

A week passed, then two, then three. Adam hadn’t found many opportunities to be alone with Ronan since the morning after that weird night in St. Agnes. He’d offered to help Ronan with Latin and pre-calc, but Ronan hadn’t taken him up on the offer. Nor had he outright declined, but Adam wasn’t going to offer twice. 

Adam’s power continued to grow. He would be alarmed, but the strange thing about it was that it wasn’t hard to control, at all. Adam really could teleport to school, and he could summon rosebushes to his bathroom and banish them at will, and once he’d even stopped a moving car. His relationship with Cabeswater had shifted, and whereas before deliberate magic had always seemed to require sacrifice and ritual and calculated risk, now he could just… do things. All sorts of things. Adam hadn’t found his limits yet, and after the thing with the car, the thought had occurred to him that maybe he just didn’t have any.

Gansey had been impressed and delighted at first, then concerned. Noah, of course, was afraid. Blue was wary. Ronan seemed to find it darkly funny, and he was starting to look at Adam in the way that Adam had once gotten used to: like he wanted Adam to be arrogant with him, wanted Adam to laugh about it too, because they were both magicians and capable of anything.

Adam was embarrassed by how much he’d missed that particular look. Ronan’s looks made him reluctant to put much effort into investigating the whys and hows of his sudden jump in power. Ronan actually seemed interested in the things Adam could do through Cabeswater, and Adam still didn’t have any ideas for how else to make Ronan interested in him. So maybe he was showing off a little; maybe he was letting himself stay in denial over how much this strange new magic would eventually cost. 

Right now it seemed free. Adam generally couldn’t accept anything that claimed to be free. Gifts from Ronan were the exception, for reasons Adam had avoided thinking about ever since he’d realized the identity of his rent benefactor. Maybe, just maybe, he could accept gifts from Cabeswater, too. Maybe they were a similar sort of animal to the gifts he’d accepted from Ronan. 

It was a thin justification that wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny, but Adam clutched at it anyway.

A month after the battle in Cabeswater, Declan finally managed to wear Ronan down into giving Western modern medicine a shot, and Gansey took him to Arlington for an extended weekend trip to some renowned neurosurgeon there. There was no question of Adam coming, or Blue or Noah; this was Gansey taking care of his oldest friend, and only Gansey could possibly be allowed to wait outside while Ronan laid very still in the MRI chamber. 

Adam spent the weekend working and watching ‘00s comedies on Netflix with Blue and Noah on the Monmouth couch, trying to bury his resentment.

They were on the couch finishing _Hot Tub Time Machine_ (awful) when Gansey and Ronan returned. Gansey walked in and gave them a tired smile and a wave, but Ronan headed straight to his room without looking at anyone. The door slam made Adam’s fingers twitch.

“The doctors don’t have any conclusive results yet,” Gansey said, leaning over the back of the couch, the end of his scarf dangling down in front of Adam’s nose. “They should know more in a couple of days.”

Noah, sitting next to Adam, grabbed the end of Gansey’s scarf and pulled, drawing Gansey down until he was bent far over the couch, looking at them upside down. “So it wasn’t a bad trip. Just a neutral one.”

Gansey sighed, and rested his forehead against Noah’s. “He thinks they won’t find anything.”

Blue twisted to look behind them at the closed door of Ronan’s room. They could hear Chainsaw shrieking, muffled through the wall. “I’m sure fancy hospitals need more than a weekend to figure things out with a human brain,” she said. “It’s not like he’s just got a bad flu or something.”

“You are welcome to tell him that,” Gansey said. “Myself, I’m rather done.”

Gansey was almost never “rather done” with Ronan. Ronan must have been utterly intolerable on the drive home. Adam found himself standing up from the couch and crossing the room to the door of Ronan’s room.

“Adam, what--?” Gansey said behind him. 

Noah answered with a laugh, “He feels like poking a hornet’s nest.”

Adam ignored them, but paused with his hand on Ronan’s doorknob. There was no positive outcome to this. Ronan had sent a clear signal that he didn’t want to talk to anybody; there might as well be a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Adam wasn’t going to get anywhere by breezing past Ronan’s boundaries and blindly assuming that he could get away with it because Ronan would have let him before. 

But something pulled him towards this closed door, like a fish hook in his belly. Adam knocked.

He heard the sounds of Ronan’s feet on the floor, then the door was yanked. “Gansey, fuck _off_ \--”

Ronan stopped when he saw Adam, and the Gansey-specific scowl on his face morphed into a more generically rude expression. 

“Hi,” Adam said, and sincerely wished that there were not three people at the couch behind him, probably watching and paying very close attention.

“What the hell do you want?” 

That, Adam thought, was a very good question. What the hell did he want, aside from Ronan himself? Adam’s thoughts raced, and what came out of his mouth was, “So the hospital was bad?”

Ronan stared, his lips slightly parted, like he couldn’t believe that Adam was here and asking him about his feelings, couldn’t believe Adam’s stupidity. Adam couldn’t blame him. “It’s none of your fucking business,” Ronan said, but he didn’t slam the door in Adam’s face.

“I just thought--” Adam stopped, tried to mold all his jumbled thoughts and the current of need running beneath it all into something specific that Ronan might not reject outright. “Maybe you’d want to vent? To someone you weren’t stuck in a car with for hours,” he added, somewhat guiltily, hoping that Gansey couldn’t hear him.

Ronan studied him with narrowed eyes. His forearm rested on the doorjamb as he leaned forward, and Adam’s eyes flicked to the leather bands on his wrist, then traveled up Ronan’s arm to his bicep and shoulder. That was an altogether dangerous place to look and he forced his eyes back to Ronan’s face.

“Christ,” Ronan said. “You weirdo.” But he stepped back from the door and waved Adam in, and Adam felt Ronan’s eyes follow him as he walked past. The door was shut behind him. Shut, not slammed.

Ronan flopped on his bed, taking up the whole space so there was nowhere for Adam to sit. Adam leaned against the wall, his eyes tracking Ronan’s movements as he settled. Ronan was now looking up at the ceiling and gnawing on his leather bands, and one of his legs was stretched out while his other knee was bent. His tank rode up to reveal part of his hipbone. Adam looked at the floor.

“I hate hospitals.”

Adam waited for Ronan to elaborate but when he glanced up, Ronan’s face was turned away, toward the wall. “Yeah,” Adam said, slowly. “When I went to the emergency room for my ear last year it was--bad. Hospitals suck.”

Ronan grunted. Adam was starting to wonder if they were just going to hang out in silence and if they were, maybe he should sit on the floor or hell, maybe he should just go back into the living room with the others, but then Ronan said, “The shittiest thing about going through an MRI is how you have to stay completely still. You have to hold still for 45 minutes and if you so much as twitch, they have to do the whole thing over again.”

Adam tried to imagine Ronan being still for 45 minutes. “Sounds bad.”

Ronan shifted, one of his legs straightening out and the other knee bending. “You’re just staring up at this awful light and if you close your eyes it doesn’t help. And there’s the noise. It’s all shitty.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing. Ronan’s chest rose up and down with his breaths, and he turned his face to look back in Adam’s direction, though his stare fell somewhere in the realm of Adam’s knees and not his face. 

“I could have a brain tumor,” Ronan said. “They said they can’t rule it out.”

Adam frowned. “You just hit your head. I doubt you have a brain tumor.”

“The brain tumor would’ve started before I hit my head. Could be why hitting my head affected me so much.”

Adam hesitated, because what he was about to say was going to sound incredibly weird and Ronan didn’t have the two years of context to give it any logic. “I think… I think that if you had something as drastic as a tumor, I would know. I mean, Cabeswater would tell me, because Cabeswater would know. You have a strong connection with it and it’s pretty dedicated to protecting you. If there was something that bad going on, it would do something, say something.” Abruptly Adam thought of _trouble’s what you’re in_ , but shoved the thought down. That wasn’t about Ronan having a brain tumor, it couldn’t be.

Ronan met his eyes now, gazing at Adam for several long moments. Chainsaw’s wings flapped in the silence and Adam felt the hairs on his arms stand up. 

“Can your magic forest give me an x-ray?” Ronan said eventually. “I don’t see how it would know fuck all.”

Adam rolled his eyes. He’d never met anyone quite as skilled at ruining moments as Ronan Lynch. He could never tell if Ronan did it deliberately or if it was an unconscious talent. “Fine. Well, the doctors will get back to you in a few days, and then you’ll know for sure there’s no tumor.” Adam hadn’t pegged Ronan for a hypochondriac, but then, Ronan was going through something pretty bizarre. It made sense that he’d be afraid, even paranoid. 

Ronan snorted. “Great. Can’t wait.” He closed his eyes and brought his wrist to his mouth again, and not for the first time Adam wondered about those leather bands on his wrists--where had they come from, had someone given them to Ronan, when did he start wearing them? And would Ronan ever feel comfortable enough with Adam to tell him? 

“You can go now,” Ronan said, his voice scathing and bored, and Adam sucked in a breath through his teeth. The haughty dismissal of it hurt more than any of the other worse things Ronan could have said, and how could Adam have forgotten how flippantly Ronan used his words to wound?

“Fucking asshole,” Adam said, and immediately hated himself for letting Ronan know that he’d gotten to him. Ronan sneered without opening his eyes and it made Adam want to start a fight, let things get really ugly. Would fighting interfere with Adam’s intentions of luring Ronan close to him? This was Ronan, so it seemed unlikely. Maybe it was as good a way as any to court him. 

But Adam knew Ronan well enough to have a decent read on his moods, and this wasn’t Ronan spoiling for a fight. This was Ronan lashing out because he was tired and worried and didn’t want whoever was around to see him vulnerable. 

Adam left the room without another word, closing the door behind him. His shoulders sagged. He felt exhausted. 

_Hot Tub Time Machine_ was over, and they hadn’t started another movie. Gansey was sitting in the spot Adam had vacated on the couch, and one of his arms was around Noah’s shoulders. Blue was resting her head on Noah’s shoulder, and Gansey’s fingers were in her hair.

They were so kind to each other, open and honest and sweet. Blue and Gansey and Noah related to each other with the sort of calm and easy affection that Adam had never quite learned, and it was only a small comfort to know that Ronan wasn’t any more capable of it than he was.

Adam yawned loudly and stepped forward, and three heads swiveled to look at him. “I’m pretty tired,” he said. “Blue, do you mind--?”

He’d driven Blue here. She could choose to stay and Gansey would eventually give her a ride home--Adam had expected that, but she was standing, grabbing her coat from where it lay on the coffee table. “I’m coming.”

They drove in companionable silence for the first few minutes, and then Blue asked, “How was talking to Ronan?”

“Terrible,” Adam said. “Of course it was, you saw what kind of mood he was in. I don’t know what I expected.”

Blue smiled. “Dead dove, do not eat.”

It took Adam a second or two to get the joke, but then he laughed. “Yeah. Exactly. Ronan’s pretty obvious.”

Blue shifted in her seat, looking out the window and then looking back at him. Adam recognized her serious face, as well as her reluctance to say whatever was on her mind. He frowned at her until she grimaced and spoke.

“So, here’s the thing” she said, her voice even more solemn than her face. “I think I have an idea of what caused Ronan’s amnesia. I don’t know for certain, but--I have a theory, and I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

Adam’s mouth was suddenly sandpaper. He licked his lips and swallowed and kept his eyes on the road. “Tell me.”

Blue hesitated. “You’re not going to like it. Um--I think Cabeswater did it, took Ronan’s memories.”

Her mouth was open like she wanted to continue, but Adam interrupted. “No. You’re wrong, there’s no way. Cabeswater protects Ronan.”

“I know that,” Blue said, flapping a hand at him. “That’s exactly why I think it’s Cabeswater’s fault. Ronan hit his head and Cabeswater reacted, trying to protect him, and overshot--you know how it works better than I do, but don’t you think it’s plausible that it was trying to protect his mind and instead erased his memories?”

Sick to his stomach, Adam remembered the awful timing of that fight, how he had seen Ronan go down and right afterwards Piper had pointed her gun at him, and he’d felt the power surge from Cabeswater but what if that hadn’t been about Piper? Maybe that had been Cabeswater rushing to wrap itself around Ronan’s mind, overzealous and damaging. 

“You think Cabeswater did it,” Adam said, and it was an effort to force the words out of his wrecked mouth. “So you think _I_ did it.”

“No! It’s not like that at all,” Blue said, frowning and anxious. “That’s not what I’m trying to say! It wasn’t your fault, it was just--”

“It was just my magic,” Adam said dully. “Just my power, you mean.”

“It’s _not_ \--”

“Cabeswater does what I tell it to!” Adam yelled, the sound ringing out in the cramped space of his car. “It would only take Ronan’s memories away if I made it do that!”

The silence that followed was thunderous. Adam stared at the road; he didn’t need to look at Blue to know that he’d crossed a line. He hadn’t yelled at her since--

He hadn’t meant to yell.

“I realize that you’re like some ridiculous forest god now,” Blue said. Not hurt or upset, just cold. Disappointed in him. “But that is a _recent_ development. Cabeswater hasn’t always followed your every whim, it’s acted independently before, and that’s what I think happened with Ronan.”

Adam pulled into the driveway of 300 Fox Way, and Blue was yanking the car door open and stepping out before he’d rolled to a complete stop. She stood at the door, leaning in to the car to spit words in his face.“But if you can’t look past your own ego, fine. Have fun wallowing in your self-pity. I’m going to tell Ronan what I think happened to him.”

Panic surged in Adam’s throat. If Ronan was going to hear that it was Adam’s fault that he’d lost years of his life, he shouldn’t hear it from anyone but Adam. “No, Blue, _please_ \--”

But she had already slammed the door and was walking away, her phone in hand. Adam parked the car and scrambled out, maybe thinking of grabbing the phone from her. But of course he didn’t; he just stood there, panting and frozen, while Blue dialed Ronan’s number and waited for him to pick up.

She turned away so that Adam could only half-hear her side of the conversation. He caught enough to know that she was explaining her theory, elaborating on the mechanics of Cabeswater for Ronan’s benefit. She didn’t mention Adam’s name at all.

The conversation was short. She hung up, turning around to glare at Adam. “He thinks I’m right,” she said. “And you _know_ I’m right.”

Adam did know. He would never have lost his temper like that if he’d thought Blue was wrong, and she was well aware. 

Some kind of green plant was sprouting at his feet and growing fast, fuzzy tendrils reaching out to wrap around Adam’s wrist. It wasn’t a grip meant to hold, it offered only comfort. Adam reached down and ripped it off, breaking the plant’s stem. The remaining greenery sunk back into the ground. Adam kept his gaze fixed on the bit clutched in his hand, already turning brown.

“What did he say?” Adam hated asking and wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but it would be much worse not to know, to be left wondering. What must Ronan think of him? 

“He didn’t seem to jump to the conclusion that it was your fault. I don’t think he mentioned you at all, actually. I told him my theory, that Cabeswater had tried to protect him and overreached, and he swore a lot but said that it made sense, or at least more sense than anything else. He hung up pretty fast, I think he wanted to talk to Gansey about it.”

Of course Ronan would want to talk to Gansey, and of course Adam was petty and awful enough to feel a stab of jealousy over that. He lifted his gaze from the dead plant in his hand, finally daring to look Blue in the eye, and saw her scrubbing angrily at her face and sniffing.

It was easy to forget that Blue and Ronan had been close, in their own weird way. Ronan had never stopped calling her ‘maggot.’ Adam had always thought that it was his mean counterpoint to Gansey’s ‘Jane,’ but maybe it meant something else entirely.

Adam looked away, shame stepping up to replace his anger and panic. “Sorry,” he said, and it came out as a mutter. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Blue said, though she still sounded pissed. He heard her scuff her toe on the ground. “I meant what I said, I really don’t think it’s your fault.”

It was impossible for Adam to think of it any other way. “If you say so.”

“I _do_ say so.” When Adam looked at her again, Blue lifted her chin, fierce in her conviction that he was innocent of this particular sin. “Don’t be all miserable about it.”

Adam cracked a smile. “But that’s what I do best.”

That made her scoff, and some of the tension dissipated. Her shoulder brushed his as she walked past him into the house, and Adam went back to his car. He was backing out of the driveway when he saw Blue stop in the doorway and turn around, calling out to him.

Adam rolled down his window. “What?”

“You would’ve realized this already if you weren’t in mope mode,” she said. “But if Cabeswater caused it, that means Cabeswater can cure it.”

Adam stared at her. His mind was empty, or maybe it was too full. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Blue said. “Anyway, see you later.”

Adam drove away without turning on the radio, the silence accompanying him back to St. Agnes. All of his fears about using Cabeswater to toy with Ronan’s brain, about Cabeswater misunderstanding and following Adam’s feelings instead of his strict instructions--all still valid. The only thing different was that Blue was right, this was Cabeswater’s fault and therefore Adam’s responsibility. He didn’t have a choice but to try. 

He stayed in the Hondayota for a long time after parking it at the curb below his apartment. Anxiety roiled in his gut. He wanted to put off this conversation, he wanted to wait for Ronan to come to him. But what Blue had said about his ‘mope mode’ stung, and he needed to take action. He couldn’t be a coward about something so important.

Adam dialed Ronan’s number, and waited for him to pick up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an incident in this chapter that I don't quite know how to warn for--the idea of a physical altercation between Ronan and Adam is brought up, but this story doesn't Go There. It's nothing more intense than Ronan grabbing Adam's shirt and pinning him to a wall in the first chapter.

Gansey paced in Monmouth’s living room, walking from the foot of his bed and taking a lap around the pool table, approaching the edge of his desk and drumming his fingers on the wood before starting the whole circuit over again. He had just gotten off the phone with Adam, having called him almost the moment Ronan ended his own phone conversation with Adam. 

Ronan sprawled on Gansey’s bed with Noah lying next to him, their shoulders touching. 

“He’s going to wear holes in the floor,” Noah murmured. Ronan snorted and nodded, not taking his eyes off of Gansey. He wasn’t sure how he felt after his own conversation with Adam, but if Gansey’s behavior was any indication, he should maybe start feeling pretty bad.

“He doesn’t want me to go with you guys,” Gansey said, no longer pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “He said it should just be you two when you go to Cabeswater to do the, uh, spell thing.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” Ronan said. Gansey gave him a look, stern and worried.

“And that doesn’t concern you?”

“Maybe Adam just wants some quality time alone with him,” Noah said. Ronan glared at the side of Noah’s head. 

Gansey looked startled, blinking at Noah like he couldn’t compute a joke. Then the corner of his mouth lifted in an uneasy smile and he glanced slyly back at Ronan. “I suppose that could be it. What better place to woo you than Cabeswater?”

Noah giggled and Ronan rolled his eyes to hide his discomfort. Had he grown used to Gansey and Noah teasing him about things like this, back before he lost his memories? Did it mean that they knew he was interested in men, or was it just--? He had no idea and the moment was already gone, Gansey shaking his head and frowning.

“He must think it’s dangerous. I mean, that’s what he told me, that he still has all his original misgivings about using his powers to fix you.”

“To _try_ and fix me,” Ronan said, and Gansey winced but nodded. Ronan looked down at his hands, curling into fists on Gansey’s bedspread. He wanted Gansey to be there. He wanted Gansey there not because he didn’t think Adam could do it--Adam could stop traffic and teleport, messing with Ronan’s brain couldn’t possibly be harder than that--but because Gansey was the strongest tether he had to his past, present, future, everything. Gansey was the one thing in Ronan’s life that hadn’t changed between his father’s death and waking up in the hospital. 

If Ronan was going to walk into Cabeswater with Adam and walk out with all his memories intact, walk out a different person entirely, he wanted Gansey to be the first thing he saw. Instead it would be Adam, Adam diving into Ronan’s mind, Adam introducing him to a new life, Adam bringing more weird stuff between them. 

Adam wasn’t Ronan’s tether. He was--Ronan didn’t know what he was. He’d known Adam for about a month, had puked in his toilet and slept in his apartment and seen him climb through his bedroom window at 1am. Adam was disconcertingly beautiful and Ronan had dreamed about him once, one of those strange (for him) dreams that he couldn’t remember but which made all his limbs feel light. Dreams which had all left him with empty hands, ephemeral and promising nothing. 

They’d apparently framed someone for murder together, in another life. Ronan wondered if he’d ever get that particular memory back, and if he did what kind of memory would it be--happy, sad, triumphant? 

What kind of Parrish-related feelings would come rushing back, if Adam managed to save his mind?

“Good feelings, I think.” Noah looked over at him with eyes that sparkled, and Ronan felt the back of his neck heating up. He drove an elbow into Noah’s side and tried not to think about his ghost roommate knowing more about his lost time than he did.

Gansey shot Noah a confused look, but didn’t comment on the quip. He started pacing again, and made it as far as his desk. He stopped and pulled a book out of the pile of books on his desk, causing the whole pile to slump sideways. He flipped through it, and Ronan had no idea what the hell he was looking for--was there really any information about repairing neural synapses via ley lines and forests in there? 

Gansey seemed to realize this as well, shutting the book and sighing. His thumb brushed his bottom lip. “If Adam and Blue think this is Cabeswater’s doing then they’re probably right, but it just seems so--stupid, and unfair and _cruel,_ for it to do this to you.”

Ronan didn’t respond. He didn’t know Cabeswater the way everyone else seemed to, he didn’t have the familiarity that he’d apparently had pre-accident, so it was hard to take this personally. It didn’t feel like any more of a betrayal than the rest of his life since Niall’s death. It was obvious that Adam felt guilty, but while there were plenty of things about Adam that pissed Ronan off, this wasn’t one of them. The black hole of Ronan’s sorrow and rage over everything he’d lost was too huge to put on one person. 

“When does Adam want to do the spell? Or--I assume it’s a spell that he’s going to do. Maybe not.” The question was directed at Ronan, but Gansey was staring out the window and frowning down at the parking lot below. 

Ronan shrugged one shoulder. “Tomorrow, after school. Guess he doesn’t have work.”

“Or he’s getting the shift covered so he can be there for you,” Noah said. Ronan looked at him and Noah looked back. Ronan couldn’t tell if Noah was saying something he happened to creepily know, or merely suggesting it as a possible truth. 

“That would be stupid,” Ronan said. But later that night, when he was lying in bed with his headphones on and not feeling sleepy in the slightest, his fingers itched until he dug out his phone.

_if you have work tomorrow, don’t skip it. we can go to the forest anytime._

It took so long for Adam to reply that Ronan had almost forgotten he’d sent the text in the first place. _I’d rather get this done as soon as possible instead of letting it hang over both our heads._

No indication of whether or not Adam did in fact have to work tomorrow. Ronan suspected that this meant he _did_ have a shift. _yeah well I don’t need you starving on my conscience so you shouldn’t skip work_

_So you don’t mind waiting until next sunday? That’s my next day off._

Ronan could tell that Adam expected him to mind a whole lot, expected him to object to sitting on his hands for a week. But when Ronan thought of going to Cabeswater alone with Adam and letting him do--whatever, he felt like he could wait. He felt like a brain tumor would almost be preferable. 

He didn’t want to think about why that was, so he didn’t think about it. Just sent back to Adam, _that’s fine_ and Adam didn’t send a reply back.

***

On Wednesday Declan insisted on taking Ronan out to dinner and then told him that Matthew had been a dream of his. Ronan didn’t take it well and the fight got ugly. For the first time since they’d been kids, Ronan took a swing at his brother, getting them both ejected from the restaurant. Ronan was a little surprised when, as soon as they were in the parking lot, Declan turned and immediately gave him an answering blow. 

They hit each other and didn’t stop until the cut on Ronan’s forehead re-opened and Declan’s head met the asphalt. For a while they were still, Ronan on his feet but bent over and panting, Declan sprawled on the ground. Then Declan got to his feet, brushed dirt off his jacket and looked at Ronan with naked disgust.

“I hope you react better to finding out other truths you’ve forgotten,” Declan said. “That is, if Adam’s able to fix you.”

If Ronan had to hear the word ‘fix’ applied to himself one more time, he was going to find someone’s arm (preferably Declan’s) and break it. 

“Fuck off,” was the only reply he could muster. Declan’s lip curled, but he left, and Ronan called Gansey to come pick him up.

“You knew,” Ronan said, as soon as he’d slid into the Pig’s passenger seat. “You knew that Matthew came from one of my dreams, and you didn’t tell me.”

Gansey’s mouth dropped open and he stared at Ronan with comically round eyes. “You dreamed up Matthew? Like--your _brother_ Matthew?”

Fucking great. Ronan ought to make a profession out of spilling his secrets, he was getting so good at it. He yanked down the mirror on the passenger seat’s sun visor, eyeing the damage to his forehead. “That’s what Declan said.”

“I didn’t know,” Gansey said, which, obviously. “That’s surprising. Wait, how could you have not known if he came from one of your dreams?”

Ronan shrugged at him angrily. “Apparently it happened when I was just a little kid. Apparently Declan told me all this last year.”

“Ah,” Gansey said. “Well, you must have kept it a secret then. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Gansey didn’t sound hurt, but Ronan still poked viciously at the cut on his head, pain flaring. “Now we both know.”

Gansey’s hand was on his shoulder, bracing. “I’m sorry your dinner went south.”

“Don’t be.” Ronan grinned savagely, looking away from the mirror toward Gansey. “It felt good to hit Declan. Haven’t done that in ages.”

Gansey snorted, then looked guilty for laughing. “That’s not quite true. You got in fist fights with him more than once, last year. Often in parking lots.”

Ronan glanced away from how that made him feel. “Figures. Why am I not surprised to keep finding things out about myself that you’ve all neglected to tell me?”

“We’re trying!” Gansey said, and looked so miserable that Ronan’s aggravation dissipated. “It’s really hard to remember everything, even just everything relevant. No one’s keeping information from you on purpose, I swear.” 

Ronan sighed and looked out the window. They were only a couple blocks away from Monmouth. He could have walked home from the restaurant, even if it was cold outside. “Whatever,” he said, and then added “I know,” because he could tell Gansey was still miserable.

***

On Sunday, Ronan drove Adam to Cabeswater in the BMW. He’d joked about Adam being too lazy to just teleport them, but Ronan enjoyed driving. Adam hadn’t responded to the joke, rolling his eyes like it had been an immature suggestion, like he couldn’t actually teleport them if he felt like it.

After they’d parked and as they approached the trees, Adam said, “Gansey told me you fought with Declan.”

Ronan wanted to be pissed at Gansey for that, but trying to mind Gansey’s open trust of his friends was a daunting task. Gansey couldn’t seem to grasp Ronan’s wariness of Adam and Blue, couldn’t comprehend that there might be anything Ronan would prefer stay between just the two of them. 

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “Did he tell you what the fight was about?”

Adam shook his head. He looked like he didn’t much care whether Ronan told him or not, so Ronan figured _what the hell_ and told him. “Apparently Matthew came from a dream I had as a kid.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and then stopped walking, his eyes glancing shiftily to the side. “Um.”

Ronan turned on him, anger and confusion building. “You knew. About Matthew.”

Adam looked like he wanted to deny it, but obviously couldn’t. His shoulders were a tight line. “I did. You told me after you found out last year.”

Ronan shook his head. Why would he have told Adam but kept it from Gansey? It didn’t make any sense. “And why the hell didn’t you tell me about him when you told me everything else?”

“It seemed like something you should hear from family,” Adam said, frowning. Ronan didn’t know him well enough to gauge the truth in that, but he was growing too angry to care. 

“What the fuck? You don’t get to decide that,” Ronan growled, his hands forming fists. “It’s my life, it’s not your job to decide what is or isn’t relevant or nice for me to hear.”

Adam huffed out an annoyed breath, like Ronan was a child throwing a tantrum. “There’s not exactly a handbook for me to follow, here.”

Ronan took a step into Adam’s space. Adam didn’t move back, meeting Ronan’s eyes steadily. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me about my life?” Ronan said, his voice low. “Anything else you didn’t think was fucking _relevant?_ ”

“Nope,” Adam said blandly, not even trying to disguise the lie. There wasn’t any kind of surface to push him against (they were still in the field leading up to the treeline) so Ronan just shoved him hard, making Adam stumble back.

Adam looked up, wiry and alert yet displaying no fear of Ronan. “Do you want to hit me?” he said, and his lips curled into a gorgeous sneer but there was something else in the way he held himself: he wasn’t afraid, but there was a kind of set resignation in his limbs that probably had nothing to do with Ronan, and everything to do with what little Adam had told him about his family situation.

It made Ronan stop advancing. Then he answered Adam’s sneer with one of his own. “Do you even know how to hit back?”

“No,” Adam said simply. “You gonna teach me?”

The mocking question came out more heavily accented than Ronan had ever heard from Adam. It somehow made everything about Adam more difficult to decipher. Ronan didn’t move and neither did Adam, staring at Ronan with gray sky and a line of trees behind him. Ronan felt poised on the brink of something, probably more fighting but possibly something as far from a fight as you could possibly get. 

He looked away first. “Maybe someday if you ask me nice.” Ronan didn’t recognize his own voice, the sly tone of it, the almost-coy promise. It sounded like he was flirting, and he was pretty sure he’d never done that on purpose before, with anyone. Not that he could remember, at any rate.

Adam laughed, surprised. “Sure.”

Ronan risked glancing at him again. Adam didn’t look rattled over being shoved, and the moment when Ronan might have shoved him again was gone--perhaps it had never existed. 

There was still something about Ronan’s lost past that Adam wasn’t telling him. Ronan needed to get it out of him, but now wasn’t the time.

They kept walking, passing into Cabeswater. Ronan let Adam take the lead. “Still no teleportation?”

Adam glanced at Ronan over his shoulder. “I don’t know where I would teleport us to. I think it’s best to keep going until something feels right.”

Ronan didn’t know how long they kept hiking. He remembered Gansey saying that time passed differently in Cabeswater. It felt like they went for hours, mostly in silence, but who the hell knew.

They hit a small clearing. There was a pond at the edge of it, fed by a small stream, and it seemed like an obvious place to Ronan, presented to them with this purpose in mind. Adam must have thought so too, because he approached the edge of the pond and then stopped, looking back at Ronan. “I think this is where we should do it.”

Ronan walked to his side, looking down at his reflection in the muddy water. “And what are we even doing?”

Adam paused. He obviously didn’t know what they were doing, and that seemed bad, but alarm didn’t come easy to Ronan. He was here, and that was what mattered. 

“It’s hard to explain,” Adam said. “Better if we just do it.” He sat down cross-legged in front of the pond, and Ronan sat down next to him. 

“I think--we should face each other,” Adam said, scooting until he was facing Ronan.

“Oh, is that what you think,” Ronan said, sarcasm heavy on his lips, but he moved until he was facing Adam too.

Adam ran a hand through his hair. “If you don’t trust me--”

“I don’t.”

Adam froze, and an expression of genuine hurt flashed across his features for just a moment. Then he looked pissed. “Well, regardless. I assume that you want me to try this or you wouldn’t be here, so--so just play along, I guess.”

Ronan looked down at the grass beneath his knees. So it hurt Adam’s feelings that Ronan didn’t trust him. He honestly hadn’t expected that, it was just one more thing he’d said to be an asshole, and besides, he now realized that it wasn’t even true. He’d started trusting Adam somewhere in the middle of that first long story Adam had told him, ironically after Adam had broken into his room. He didn’t like that he’d just lied. “Fine.”

They didn’t speak for a while. Adam shifted, and when Ronan looked up at him he was frowning down at the pond. Eventually he turned back forward, met Ronan’s gaze. “All right. I think--I think I should be touching you for this.”

“Fine,” Ronan said again, refusing to feel awkward. Adam took his hands, glancing up at Ronan like he was trying to gauge if this was okay. Ronan squeezed his fingers in response. It was okay, it was whatever.

“Yeah,” Adam muttered, mostly to himself. His hips shifted again before he seemed to settle, his grip on Ronan’s hands firm and his eyes closed. Ronan watched as the frown lines disappeared from his face. His lips were moving, but Ronan couldn’t read them.

A breeze came through, and then a stronger blast of wind hit them. The chill went straight through the sleeves of Ronan’s jacket and he shivered. He could feel--something. His head hurt and Adam’s palms were sweaty and hot and there was something like an electric current running through Ronan’s body. His mouth filled with saliva and holy shit, the wind was really whipping around them now, making the trees howl.

An image flashed before Ronan’s eyes, there and gone in an instant. He blinked hard and shook his head to clear it, and when he opened his eyes he got three more images in quick succession. His father dead on the ground, a car on fire, an underground tomb--

Were these memories? Was it starting? Ronan held Adam’s hands in a vice-like grip, and Adam’s body was entirely rigid. The wind screamed and thunder cracked somewhere. Ronan felt rain drops on his head, and then it was pouring.

“Adam,” Ronan said, but there was no response. “Adam,” he called again, louder, shaking Adam’s hands. Still no response and Ronan was afraid to let go. He couldn’t feel that electric current anymore and there had been no more images, but _something_ was happening. Cabeswater was freaking out around them and Adam was entirely unresponsive, Adam seemed somewhere else entirely. 

Then Adam’s mouth fell open and he yelled in a voice that was not his. Every hair on Ronan’s body stood on end. They had all been so worried about this experiment’s effect on Ronan that it hadn’t even occurred to him to worry about Adam. But it was occurring to him now, raising every internal alarm bell he had, and Ronan yelled back, yelled Adam’s name as loud as he could.

He let go of Adam’s hands and took his shoulders, shaking him hard and calling his name again and again. Adam’s eyes remained closed but he pushed Ronan’s hands off and stood, his movements jerky like a puppet on strings. Ronan stared up at him, his view obscured by sheets of rain, and just as he was scrambling to his feet Adam turned to the side and threw himself into the pond.

The pond which was, apparently, so much deeper than Ronan had realized. Had it always been that deep, or had Cabeswater morphed it? It didn’t matter, because either way Adam was sinking, and when Ronan looked into the water he couldn’t see the bottom.

Ronan shucked his jacket, shoes and jeans and then dove in after him.


	7. Chapter 7

At first, it had seemed to work. Adam took Ronan’s hands and closed his eyes, reaching for the ley line as he always did. It felt like scrying, even though he hadn’t needed to scry in ages, not with the expansion of his powers. But this seemed to be in the same category as scrying, with his body dropping away and the sense of traveling far and seeing everything, including all kinds of things he didn’t understand.

He found himself somewhere that felt like Ronan’s mind, with Cabeswater murmuring unintelligibly. Adam felt around for some hint of what to do, and when that didn’t work he narrowed his focus to the incident itself, remembering Ronan’s injury and the way Cabeswater had built inside his chest, leaping out through him.

Cabeswater let him see. Now it seemed obvious what had happened, and of course Blue’s hypothesis was right: Cabeswater had felt Ronan in danger and reacted, tree branches and river reeds reaching out to wrap tenderly around Ronan’s mind and heart. 

But it wasn’t like Adam had suspected, Cabeswater overreaching in its protectiveness. Instead, Cabeswater had felt Ronan’s life start to slip away, the blow to his head so much worse than any of them had realized, and Cabeswater had--was it possible for a magical semi-sentient forest to panic? It had rushed after Ronan’s swiftly-dwindling life force and held on to him, then knitted him back together as best as it knew how.

Cabeswater had prevented the blow to Ronan’s head from being fatal, it did a better job of knitting bone and skin back together than it did with Ronan’s memories. It had tried, but the forest was not a neurosurgeon, and the job had been half-finished. 

Adam hoped that if Cabeswater had started to reconstruct Ronan’s mind, it could now finish it with Adam’s help. He pushed carefully and at first, Cabeswater seemed to follow his lead. He could feel the threads of what he hoped were Ronan’s memories, and they seemed to go with him readily enough.

But then there came resistance. Adam couldn’t tell if it came from Cabeswater or Ronan himself, but either way it was like pushing his way through thick brambles. The harder he pushed the harder it was to hang on to Ronan, and things unraveled very quickly. The tether to Ronan’s mind slipped away from him, and when Adam plunged after it there was a ghost of what he’d felt when he’d tried to scry in that national park, before Blue had pulled him back. That feeling that told him that he was in too deep, he’d gone too far.

Adam ignored it. He realized it was hubris, to think that just because he could teleport now that he could also ignore clear warning signs, but he remembered the look on Ronan’s face when Maura had read aloud the meaning of his Tarot card. Ronan didn’t want a rebirth, he wanted his old self back, and no one could help him but Adam. So he kept pushing, kept following, deeper and darker until he had the twin realizations that 1) he didn’t know where he was, and 2) the tether to Ronan’s mind had completely vanished.

Fear crept in. Adam heard _Trouble’s what you’re in_ and didn’t know if someone was saying it out loud or if he was just thinking it to himself. He looked around with all his power and could feel only blackness. He tried to send his spirit back the way he’d come, but he couldn’t feel anything in the distance, no self for him to slot back into. Panic flared and he lashed out, groping in the dark for something, anything. He thought he felt the edge of Cabeswater and reached for it, but Cabeswater was agitated, Cabeswater was _screaming_ and a ravine opened up before him, a chasm stretching wider and wider--

Going on instinct, Adam leaped. He made the edge but just barely, his feet stumbling, his arms pinwheeling, and then he fell backwards. He gave Cabeswater a wordless command, demanding that it keep him safe, and just like that he was back in his own body, back in the physical world.

And he was drowning. Water pressed in on all sides and Adam choked, letting water into his mouth. He tried to kick his legs but his muscles didn’t seem to be working very well, he felt stiff and sluggish and there was a whirlpool in his mind that had nothing to do with being underwater. He seemed to be only halfway back in his body, present enough to know what was going on but not enough to give his physical form instructions.

Arms wrapped around his middle. He was being pulled, he could feel waves of water like someone else was kicking, and then they broke the surface. Adam spluttered and sucked in air and stared up at forbidding clouds, at the tops of trees.

Ronan was swearing. Adam felt his consciousness get sucked under again, felt his mind depart, and when he came back again they were both on solid ground. 

He could feel droplets of water hitting his cheeks. Rain. When Adam opened his eyes, Ronan’s face filled his vision. Adam’s tongue didn’t feel real. “Did it--”

“Shh,” Ronan said, his voice softer than Adam had heard it in a long time. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

Adam’s thoughts were limp, hazy things. He was cognizant of Ronan’s fingertips on his chest and the back of his head, he was in Ronan’s lap--? And Ronan was looking at him, like--like. 

_It worked. He’s back._ A giddy certainty flooded through Adam and he reached up before he could think past it, his fingers clumsily hitting Ronan’s cheek. Ronan turned into the touch for a moment, frowning, and then he said Adam’s name, and Adam went under again.

He came back to the surface briefly to feel Ronan carrying him. When he opened his eyes he saw trees and sky, again. They were still in Cabeswater. He was in Ronan’s arms and he felt safer than he probably should. His eyes fell shut again.

He came back next in the car, heard the sound of wheels on gravel as Ronan peeled away from Cabeswater. When he looked over at Ronan, Ronan was staring at the road, but he spared a glance for Adam. The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile, and he reached over to touch Adam’s shoulder and squeeze. “It’s okay,” Ronan said, and to Adam’s feverish mind it implied only success, against all odds, in defiance of how Adam had felt himself failing when he’d been inside Ronan’s mind. Ronan the amnesiac hadn’t even trusted Adam and would never look at Adam as he was now, so therefore this couldn’t be him, this had to be the Ronan that Adam had let himself get used to before they found Glendower. 

This was the Ronan that had dreamed him up lotion and paid his rent and Adam was so loopy that he didn’t even try to stop the fantasies that rushed him now. This was a Ronan who trusted him, who might let Adam kiss him, hold him, be with him.

Adam wanted to ask, wanted to confirm but he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember being, and he fell back asleep. The next thing he knew the BMW was stopping and Ronan’s hand shook his shoulder.

“We’re here, at your place. Can you make it up the stairs? I’ll help.”

Adam could barely manage a nod. Ronan pulled him out of the car and to his feet, then Ronan’s arm locked around his middle and he had Adam’s arm over his shoulders. But Adam’s feet didn’t seem to want to lift. Adam felt it against his side when Ronan sighed heavily, and then Ronan bent and Adam felt Ronan’s arm tuck under his knees, lifting him off the ground. Adam felt awed. Ronan strained to carry him up the stairs, cursing and lurching from one side to the other, and Adam knew he would be mortified by this later but right now it seemed almost magnificent in a bleary sort of way.

“You’re strong,” Adam said, feeling drunk. Ronan just groaned and set Adam on his feet in front of the apartment door. 

“Payback from when you had to help my drunk ass upstairs,” he said, then stuck his hand into the front pocket of Adam’s pants. Part of Adam registered a shocked objection to this, to Ronan’s thieving fingers groping there in particular. Then Ronan had the apartment keys in hand and they were inside, and Adam fell face down onto his bed.

Ronan was back. His Ronan was back. It was the last thought that went through his mind before things went black again.

***

Adam woke up with a headache. His apartment smelled like coffee, and Ronan was still here, sitting on a milk crate and watching him.

Ronan stiffened when he saw that Adam was awake, and he was instantly on his feet, his back to Adam as he walked into the kitchen. “You want coffee? It’s pretty late, but. I don’t know, I thought maybe someone waking up from a magic fainting spell would want coffee.”

“Yeah, I do,” Adam said, his voice a dry croak. “And there should be some advil, over the sink.”

Ronan came back to his bedside with a mug of coffee and two advil. Adam downed the pills dry and sipped at the coffee. Steam warmed his face, and he shivered.

He was still in wet clothes, or at least wet pants. Ronan had removed his shirt. There was a dry shirt next to him on the bed, which Adam hastily pulled on.

Ronan stood, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to just undress you completely,” he muttered, an explanation for the clammy wet pants that Adam was still wearing. Ronan’s clothes looked wet, too, although not as wet as Adam’s. Adam remembered arms wrapping around him underwater; Ronan must have thought to take his pants off before diving in.

And Ronan had carried him from the meadow back to the BMW. Probably Cabeswater had felt the urgency and shortened the distance, but still. Ronan really _was_ strong.

Adam gulped his coffee even though it was still too hot. “I fell into the pond, didn’t I?”

“More like a small lake. Yeah.”

Adam rested his forehead on the rim of his mug. It was disturbing, an awful lot like Cabeswater had possessed his body while Adam was elsewhere. Scrying wasn’t supposed to work like that--and what Adam had done couldn’t be considered scrying (couldn’t be considered anything, probably, because Adam suspected it wasn’t anything anyone had ever tried to do before), but still. Adam hated to think of his body doing things while his mind wasn’t there.

The bed shifted as Ronan sat down. Adam scooted his legs to the side to give Ronan room, and Ronan leaned into his personal space. Adam looked up to see Ronan’s face close, Ronan frowning as he reached out to gingerly touch Adam’s forehead. Adam realized there was a bandage there.

“You’ve got a cut,” Ronan said. “It’s the same shape as the one I got on my forehead when--you know.”

Yeah, Adam knew. He resisted the urge to touch where Ronan was touching. He didn’t know what it meant that Cabeswater had given him the same wound that Ronan had received when he’d come so close to dying. It would disturb him, but he was a little distracted by Ronan’s hand on his head, Ronan leaning in so close.

Ronan’s touch on Adam’s forehead was gentle. Ronan had gotten him out of Cabeswater, had taken care of him. Adam’s conviction from when he’d been half-asleep and delirious came roaring back: It must mean that the real Ronan was back, that Ronan’s crush was back. For once Adam turned away from his instinct to apply logic to the situation, and instead felt his hope flare like Ronan had lit a match.

“Did it work?” Adam asked. Held his breath. 

Ronan took his hand from Adam’s forehead and leaned back, away from him. The soft look in his eyes disappeared. “No,” he said, voice blank. Ronan’s voice was never blank. “It didn’t.”

Adam’s heart thudded downward. He leaned back too, widening the space between them. Disbelief warred with anger and despair and he heard his own voice say, thick with desperation, “Are you sure? You don’t remember _anything_ new?”

“No,” Ronan said, a snarl this time as he glared at Adam. “Whatever spell thing you tried to do, it didn’t work. I’m still the same.”

Adam hated the stark bitterness now in Ronan’s words. He took a sip of coffee, because he didn’t know what else to do. Failure hummed in his veins, twisted his mouth. From the way Ronan had carried him, touched him--he’d been so sure--

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. It wasn’t enough, but he didn’t know what else to say. What was it worth, being the Magician, when he couldn’t help his friends? Disappointment and frustration gripped him and the walls seemed to slip away, he was back underwater and he couldn’t see the sun. He had thought he had power. He had thought he had Cabeswater. A swamplike stench filled his nostrils and Adam closed his eyes, ready to slip under again. 

He felt Ronan’s hand settle on his shoulder, and the smell dissipated. Adam looked up to see Ronan looking pissed--but not at him, Adam could tell. “Don’t be. You nearly got yourself killed.”

Adam shook his head. “I was fine. Cabeswater wouldn’t have let me die,” but could he really say that with 100% certainty? And besides, there were plenty of things that Cabeswater might do that weren’t death but still scared him. Ronan’s amnesia was exhibit A. 

Ronan looked at him like he could hear what Adam wasn’t saying. “Okay,” he said. “You were fine. Sure. Fine people go into trances and fall into lakes all the fucking time.”

Ronan was rattled, Adam realized. This wasn’t the Ronan who’d seen beasts stampede over Whelk’s body, or who’d climbed into an underground cavern to see a zoo of bone creatures. This Ronan had never experienced the dangerous side of Cabeswater before and didn’t know what it felt like when magic went wrong. Adam realized this but he was tired and frayed and so used to fighting that he felt himself getting defensive anyway, bristling at Ronan’s tone.

“Maybe that was part of the spell,” Adam snapped. “We’ll never know what might have happened if you hadn’t pulled me out.”

Ronan stopped touching Adam’s shoulder and stood. “You would’ve drowned. It’s not that hard to figure out.”

Adam bent his knees and hunched over himself, taking another gulp of coffee. It had to be at least 8pm, it was dark outside, but he didn’t want to fall back asleep anytime soon. His headache had retreated, at least.

A large part of him was still absorbing the reality that Ronan’s memories were still gone. While Ronan had been carrying him Adam had been so certain, so sure that it had meant something. So sure he’d succeeded and that Ronan remembered all they’d been to each other. 

Ronan’s hands were in his pockets as he glanced at the door. “I can go. If you want.”

The ‘if you want’ seemed significant, like something Adam shouldn’t ignore, but he was too tired and unhappy to treat it with the care it deserved. Ronan still didn’t remember, and none of the soppy romantic images that Adam had briefly entertained were possible. Adam needed to keep waiting, had to resign himself to his slow and stumbling attempts to build a connection that Ronan didn’t even seem to want. 

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Adam said, and at least he didn’t sound too crestfallen. Just tired.

Ronan stayed still for a second, and then he rolled his shoulders and strode across the room. His hand was on the doorknob when Adam looked up and said, “Wait.”

Ronan paused and glanced at Adam over his shoulder. Adam stared at him. Each of his nerve-endings was on high alert. 

Did he truly have to wait to do anything until Ronan seemed to like him as much as he had before? It pulled at Adam’s heart to think this, but there was no guarantee that that day would ever come. 

Adam had waited before, back when he’d first begun to make out the shape of Ronan’s desire. Maybe it was his fresh head injury talking, but Adam was sorely sick of waiting. 

Ronan was still looking at Adam with a question in his eyes. Adam bit the inside of his cheek and patted the bed next to him. “Come back?”

Ronan frowned, but let go of the doorknob and crossed the room, sitting back down on the bed. Adam set his coffee mug on the floor and swung out his legs so that they were sitting side by side. His clothes were still damp and cold, but these concerns seemed far off. Every sense he had zeroed in on what exactly Ronan’s eyes might be asking, and Adam breathed out, trying to pull on every strand of courage he had.

“What is it?” Ronan said. There was something boyish in his voice, something Adam wanted to chase down.

“Um. I guess, I just--thanks. For pulling me out of the lake, and taking me back here. And making coffee. It’s really… it was nice of you.”

Ronan gave an angry shrug, and Adam could guess what he thought of being called ‘nice.’ The reaction made Adam feel absurdly fond, like he wanted to photograph all of Ronan’s angry shrugs and keep them around. 

Adam needed to focus. He put a hand on Ronan’s knee. Ronan’s eyes went perplexed, but he didn’t move away or speak. Fragile bird wings fluttered in Adam’s throat where a heartbeat ought to be, and he leaned forward, closed his eyes.

Ronan’s lips were soft against Adam’s. Adam didn’t know how to kiss someone, had never done it before. He pulled back after pressing his mouth to Ronan’s for just a few moments. 

So that was it, he’d done it, he’d kissed Ronan. There would be a before and an after. This meant a different shape to Adam’s world.

Adam opened his eyes to see Ronan staring at him. “Are you--” The words came out of Ronan’s mouth percussive, too loud in the silent apartment. He stopped, started again at a lower volume. “Is this your messed up way of thanking me?”

Whatever Adam had expected, it wasn’t this. “What?”

Ronan shook his head, and with each shake Adam’s heart sunk lower. “I didn’t pull you out of that lake because I wanted this. It wasn’t _about_ that. I would have done it for anyone, I was just being a decent person.”

Adam carefully removed his hand from Ronan’s knee. “I know that. I know you’re decent.”

Ronan caught Adam’s hand. His thumb brushed the top of Adam’s knuckles, and Adam could only stare down. He felt very dumb. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ronan grumbled, and when Adam looked up, Ronan was scowling at him. But it wasn’t an angry scowl, just confused, and when Adam took in a breath to reply, Ronan kissed him.

It wasn’t much different from their first kiss. It was just Ronan’s mouth, warm and dry, unassuming. ‘Shy’ wasn’t a word Adam would have chosen to describe Ronan Lynch, but that was how Ronan was kissing him, shy and soft and hesitant. Adam’s hand felt like it was on fire at every point Ronan’s fingers touched. Adam wondered if he was dreaming. 

But if this were a dream, his legs wouldn’t be encased in damp denim. And if it were a dream Ronan wouldn’t be breaking the kiss already, although he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Adam’s.

“Have I kissed anyone before this? Do you know?” Ronan spoke quietly, more hushed than Adam had ever heard him be. It made Adam long to touch him more, to pull him in, but he didn’t move.

“I don’t know,” Adam said, his own voice just as low. “Gansey might know, or Noah. You could ask.” Adam was not about to admit that he himself had definitely not kissed anyone before just now.

Ronan shook his head, leaning back just enough to meet Adam’s eyes. “Nah. I don’t really mind not knowing.” 

Adam didn’t know what that meant, but he hoped it meant that Ronan didn’t mind letting Adam be his first kiss.

Adam shifted until he was facing Ronan more, and with the hand that wasn’t currently being held by Ronan’s hand, he reached up to touch Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan came when Adam tugged him forward and they kissed again, lingering this time, more this time. When Adam opened his mouth Ronan opened his, and then everything was wetter and warmer and, oh. That was Ronan’s tongue in his mouth, _oh._

It was all still very careful. Adam could feel himself holding back, quite literally--his limbs were stiff and instead of crushing Ronan to him he was using his hand on Ronan’s shoulder to hold him at arm’s length. Not that Ronan was trying to get closer; he seemed just as cautious. 

There was a needy fire in Adam’s chest that he was struggling to keep banked. There was so much that he couldn’t let out just yet.

They stopped after a while. Instead of feeling good, Adam felt anxious. He didn’t know what this meant or what he wanted it to mean, and Ronan was so much more guarded than Adam had imagined--when he’d let himself imagine. He had imagined that Ronan’s approach to kissing would be the same as his approach to everything, rude and explosive and more than most people could handle. This wasn’t like that at all.

For once in his life, Adam didn’t want to be careful or guarded. He wanted to rush heedlessly into something, he wanted to feel the way he’d felt when Ronan had flung him forward in a shopping cart. But he couldn’t get there if Ronan didn’t get there first. That wasn’t the way they worked.

Adam was looking down at his lap when he felt Ronan’s hand in his hair. Adam lifted his head, startled, and Ronan snatched his hand away. They stared at each other, two sets of wide eyes.

“I wish I knew you better,” Ronan blurted out. 

He sounded rough and cracked. Hearing that particular wish made Adam want to leave or kick something, because Ronan used to know him so well, so much better than Adam ever gave him credit for. But it wouldn’t help Ronan any if Adam got upset. He took a breath and ensured his voice was steady when he responded. “What do you want to know?”

Ronan gave him a searching look. “Why do you have lotion that’s labeled with my handwriting?”

It took Adam by surprise. He’d left the manibus lotion on his dresser, he’d been stupid, he hadn’t thought Ronan would care to look. “You dreamt it for me, I--you must have noticed--my hands,” he said lamely. “They get chapped.”

Ronan’s look was now incredulous. “I gave you hand lotion,” he said, each word tinged with disbelief. 

Adam had to tread carefully here. Ronan was asking for an explanation for something that had always bewildered Adam. Also, it was just embarrassing. 

“Yeah, you did. You used to--um, you did things like that for me sometimes. Nice things. You made me a mixtape for my car. And--” Adam hesitated, but was there anything wrong with laying it all out, at this point? They’d already kissed. “When my Aglionby tuition went up, became more than I could have afforded, you paid the difference in my rent so that I’d be able to still go to school.”

Adam watched Ronan digest this. Ronan ducked his head, looking down at where their hands were still joined. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low growl, at odds with the soft way he still held Adam’s hand. “So were you ever going to tell me that before I hit my head, I had a massive crush on you?”

Adam opened his mouth and closed it. All he could see of Ronan was the top of his head and the tips of his eyebrows. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“But you _knew_ ,” Ronan said. “You knew and it seems like no one else did and you didn’t think that this was important information for me to have?”

“I wasn’t about to put words in your mouth! Besides, would you have appreciated it if, when I broke into your room, I’d told you your whole story and then oh, by the way, you have no idea who I am but I’m pretty sure you used to want to kiss me so let’s get right on that?” Adam stopped, breathed, the impact of so many words said at once turning him scarlet. He needed Ronan to understand this, to get why Adam couldn’t have just laid out Ronan’s feelings like one more fact, a piece of his history like all the rest. 

“I asked you if there was anything else you hadn’t told me,” Ronan said. The tips of his eyebrows seemed upset. 

“And I lied,” Adam said. “I’m sorry, but--I couldn’t just _inform you_ that you used to like me and assume it meant anything for you now. You’re too--” Adam’s voice caught and he coughed, considered stopping, but he had to get this out. “You’re too important to me to treat you like that.”

Ronan was quiet for so long that Adam wondered if he should change the subject, or move away and stand up, or do something else entirely. He tried not to freak out over his admission that Ronan was important to him.

Then Ronan lifted his head, meeting Adam’s eyes finally. “But we didn’t do anything. Did we?”

“No,” Adam said. “I would have told you about that.”

Ronan nodded, taking this in. Adam couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell whether he was still mad or--or what. “Did you like me back?”

Now it was Adam who looked down, staring at their hands while his cheeks burned. “Um. Yes. But it was--complicated for me, I guess. I don’t know. It took me a while to sort out what I felt.” He didn’t want to tell Ronan that it took a head injury for Adam to come to grips with it all; he didn’t know what conclusions Ronan would draw from hearing that, but Adam didn’t want to make him somehow think that Adam found his amnesia sexy. 

Ronan squeezed his hand. “Okay,” he said.

Adam looked up. “Okay?”

Ronan nodded and smiled, a clear open expression that seemed foreign on his face. “Yeah. I get it.”

Instead of smiling back, Adam lurched forward and pressed their mouths together again. This time Ronan’s mouth opened immediately, and the kiss turned expansive and dirty. Ronan’s arm hooked around Adam’s side and pulled him in and then they were chest-to-chest, touching in too many places for Adam to keep track of. Adam’s hand moved to cup Ronan’s cheek, then the nape of Ronan’s neck. His other hand was still clutched in Ronan’s, holding tight. 

Adam took as Ronan gave, Adam pushing forward and Ronan letting him. Ronan gave Adam control as easily as a river flowing into a gulf. They went from sitting up straight to Ronan leaning back on one elbow, and then Ronan gave further and ended up sprawled on his back, Adam on top of him. They were backwards on the bed, their heads down by where Adam’s feet would usually be. 

It was awkward, and Adam made himself lean back long enough for Ronan to get his legs up on the bed. Then Ronan settled down on the mattress again, looking up at Adam with kiss-flushed lips, and it was too much--or just enough. Adam swooped in again, and now Ronan was kissing the way Adam had initially expected him to, hungry and demanding. Adam’s thoughts raced and then they flatlined, his mind going clear in a way he’d only previously experienced while scrying.

When Adam realized that he could feel Ronan’s erection, hard against his thigh, he gasped in surprise. Ronan pushed up against him as if he’d divined the reason behind Adam’s reaction. Adam was hard, too, arousal singing at every pulse point. Things seemed to be going somewhere and Adam was vaguely aware that if they didn’t stop soon, stopping would become quite difficult to do.

It was Ronan who cut things off, turning his head so that Adam’s lips met his cheek. “Adam,” he panted.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and slowed himself. He’d been reaching under Ronan’s t-shirt, his thumb brushing a nipple. He carefully placed his hand on the mattress instead and pushed himself up on an elbow to give Ronan more space. “Yeah.”

Adam watched Ronan’s eyelashes flutter. “Maybe we should stop? Or--fuck, I don’t know. What do you think.”

Adam closed his eyes. His body clamored. Maybe he could go jerk off in the bathroom. Except it wouldn’t be fair to leave Ronan hanging like that, so maybe he’d let Ronan go do it first. Fuck, now he was just thinking about Ronan jerking off. 

“I agree. We should stop,” he said, trying for some firmness in his voice. With effort he made himself sit up and move away from Ronan, settling himself on the far end of the bed.

Ronan sat up, too. They stayed like that, the small amount of distance between them seeming larger than it should and their harsh breaths loud in the silence of Adam’s apartment. Adam wondered what time it was. He’d hardly drank any coffee but he felt so awake.

“I should probably go,” Ronan said. Adam looked over at him and Ronan looked back. He seemed uncertain, and--

“Stay,” Adam said, then immediately cringed at himself. “I mean--you can spend the night, if you want to. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ronan rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh.”

“You don’t have to sleep in the bed with me,” Adam said, suddenly realizing how his offer might have come across. “Not if you don’t want to. And we don’t have to do anything. I have that air mattress.”

Ronan nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and then his eyes cut away and he actually bit his lip, more uncertain than Adam had ever seen him. “I wouldn’t mind staying in the bed. Uh, in your bed. If _you_ wouldn’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Adam said, and he hoped that his happiness at the prospect didn’t come through his voice, but if the way Ronan glanced at him now was any indication, it probably had. Adam allowed himself to smile back for just a second before getting to his feet and looking away from Ronan’s face. “I just need to, uh, change. Do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in or anything?”

Ronan shook his head, and Adam busied himself with pulling out a pair of pajama pants. He hesitated, thinking of the times he’d changed in front of Ronan before, but then he gave into the compulsion for modesty and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Adam gripped the edge of his sink. He counted backwards from twenty in his head until his breathing seemed to approach normal. His erection was flagging but he still thought briefly of jerking off--he wanted to--but no, that would take time, and Ronan would figure it out and Adam didn’t want to make things weird. Things were already weird, it was maybe the single weirdest night of Adam’s already-plenty-weird life, but. Still.

He changed out of his wet pants and into pajamas and when he left the bathroom, Ronan was wearing only his boxers and his tank top. He was standing, his hands shoved under his armpits, and when he turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening he looked as awkward as Adam felt.

“Are you tired yet?” Adam asked, and Ronan shook his head. 

“I have Netflix on my laptop,” Adam said. “Gansey lets me use his account. Want to watch something?”

They never watched stuff together. Adam did homework while Ronan drank, usually. But the last thing Adam felt like doing was homework.

“Sure,” Ronan said. He looked relieved, and Adam fought the urge to grin at him again.

Adam had bought his laptop at the start of his freshman year at Aglionby. According to his admissions officer, it was theoretically possible to get all his coursework done in the Aglionby library, making a home computer optional. But Adam had quickly realized that, between his work schedule and his father’s dislike of Adam coming home from campus at late hours, owning a personal computer was not at all optional. Most of his teachers operated under the assumption that their students had internet and computer access at home, and while they might have been understanding had Adam gone to them to explain that he didn’t, Adam hadn’t wanted to have those conversations.

So he’d sacrificed more sleep and worked extra shifts, even skipping a few classes here and there to fit in more work. Eventually he’d been able to afford a refurbished PC. Most of his fellow students had shiny new Macbooks, but still, it had been the most expensive item Adam had ever bought for himself. It had been exciting. Back when he’d lived at home (no, not home--back when he’d lived with his parents), Adam had tried to use it only when he knew his father was asleep or away, always nervous that the sound of typing would give him away. He’d taken it with him almost everywhere despite its heaviness, not wanting his dad to discover it when he went through Adam’s things.

And his father never did. He’d found one of Adam’s pay stubs, and that had been the end of everything, but he’d never found that laptop. 

The original purchase had been two and a half years ago, making the laptop ancient in tech years. Adam was terrified that it was going to die any minute, although he kept very good care of it and it rewarded his care by chugging along just fine for the most part. It was embarrassing, to set up his humble machine in front of Ronan now, but if Ronan was unimpressed by Adam’s inability to afford Apple products, he didn’t show it.

Adam’s bed wasn’t big enough for two people, and it definitely wasn’t big enough for two people and a laptop. But they made it work, the laptop balanced on Adam’s stomach while Ronan laid on his side next to him. At first it seemed awkward to touch, despite what they’d spent the last while doing, and then Ronan rolled his eyes and shifted closer decisively, the hand that he wasn’t using to prop himself up settling lightly on Adam’s thigh. It made Adam relax too, the sagging of his mattress pushing their bodies together naturally.

They watched an episode of Brooklyn 99. It was funny enough to distract Adam a bit from the excitement of touching Ronan so much, so casually. He liked hearing Ronan laugh--usually it came out as an unimpressed snort, but a couple of times the show surprised a real laugh out of him. 

By the time they finished a second episode, Adam was finally starting to feel sleepy. Beside him, Ronan yawned. Adam shut down his computer and set it carefully on the floor. He had to stand up to shut off the light, and when he laid back down, Ronan’s body seemed to be taking up more space than he had before. 

While Adam deliberated about how to fit himself around Ronan in what little space they had, Ronan flipped himself over, his back to Adam’s front. Adam watched Ronan settling himself, the way he tucked a hand beneath the pillow and bent his knees. He was making himself the little spoon, Adam realized with a sense of wonder. 

Adam let his hand touch Ronan’s side, half-expecting to be rebuffed. When that didn’t happen he shifted closer, inch by inch until his knees were tucked into the shape of Ronan’s knees. There was still some space between their bodies, but Adam could have easily leaned forward and kissed the nape of Ronan’s neck, if he wanted to. He wanted to, but he held himself back, thinking that it would be a bad idea to start that again.

“Goodnight,” Adam said, keeping his voice neutral and as unassuming as he could.

He could hear Ronan’s jaw crack when he yawned. “‘Night.”

It occurred to Adam that Ronan might have a hard time falling asleep, that he might be dealing with insomnia and maybe it would have been better for him to be on an air mattress on the floor, where he could toss and turn however he needed. But Ronan had agreed to this arrangement, hadn’t he? 

Adam was pulled from his ruminative thinking by the realization that Ronan’s breaths had slowed and evened out. He was asleep, and Adam shifted closer without really thinking about it. He was pretty tired himself by now, and it wasn’t long before he drifted off.

***

Adam woke up warm. The alarm on his phone blared (it was Monday), but he paid it little attention. Ronan was soft beneath his arms, he was warm, and there was something else in his bed, something in between them that Adam felt against his chest when he moved. 

He felt around until he had it in his hand, and held it up to the light. It was a plum, its purple color rich and deep, the fruit still firm. Only just barely ripe.

Adam couldn’t stop grinning at it.

“Fucking christ.” In front of him, Ronan groped out with his hand until he found Adam’s phone, plugged into the wall and still yelling at them. Ronan poked at it hostilely until it quieted, then let it drop. 

Ronan rolled over on the bed, looking up at Adam. From the expression on Ronan’s face, he was possibly feeling the awkwardness inherent in the two of them waking up together for the first time. Adam would be feeling it, too, if it weren’t for the plum. 

Adam held it out to Ronan, still grinning. “You made this. Do you think some of your memories could be coming back, maybe subconsciously?”

Ronan frowned at it. “My dream wasn’t about fruit.”

“The fruit’s not the point,” Adam said. “Were you dreaming about us? About us eating plums at the Barns?”

Ronan’s frown deepened. “No.”

That made Adam deflate slightly, but still--it seemed like some kind of sign. He sat up all the way, pushing off the sheets. He didn’t remember his own dream, but it had been good, he was sure it had been good. He never felt like this waking up from a nightmare. With the plum in his palm, the possibility of nightmares felt far away.

Ronan sat up too, then stood, stretching his arms high above his head. Adam watched the muscles of his back without trying to hide it. He didn’t have to hide the way he looked, now. This realization hit him with a vividness that Adam wasn’t used to at 6:30 am.

Adam stood, bumping shoulders with Ronan. “I can take you by Monmouth before we go to school. You can grab your uniform and backpack.”

“Sure,” Ronan said. He pointed at the plum. “I wouldn’t eat that, if I were you. Dream food can get weird.”

Adam arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like there’s a story there.” 

Ronan snorted. “Nothing too exciting, unless me giving myself food poisoning as a toddler gets you going.”

Had Ronan ever been a toddler? He must have been, _he_ wasn’t a dream come to life. Were there pictures, did Aurora have any? Some of Adam’s thoughts must have shown on Adam’s face, because Ronan arched an eyebrow back at him and said, “What?”

“I can’t picture you throwing up due to anything but a hangover,” Adam said, because he didn’t know how Ronan would react to Adam wanting to know more about his childhood. That seemed dangerous, uncharted territory. 

Ronan laughed. The sound was sleepy still, softened by the morning. Adam wanted to kiss him, but he wanted to shower and brush his teeth first. And he had fruit in his hand.

He set the plum carefully on top of his dresser. “I should hit the shower,” he said. For one wild moment he thought about asking Ronan to join him, but christ, no, they should at least have sex first. And great, now he was thinking about Ronan and sex again. If he jerked off quickly enough in the shower, maybe Ronan wouldn’t suspect anything. 

“We both should, we went swimming in a muddy lake yesterday,” Ronan said, and Adam blinked. With everything that had happened after, he had almost forgotten the drowning and his attempt at magic that had failed so spectacularly.

Later. He would have to think about that later, analyze it and compare notes with Ronan’s account and figure out what he could do better next time. There _had_ to be a next time: Adam was more sure than ever now that the only path back to Ronan’s memories went through Cabeswater.

He found himself glancing at the plum, his gaze pulled involuntarily. He wanted Ronan to remember. He wished that some of his reasons for wanting weren’t so selfish.

“Are you going first, or should I?” Ronan said, and right, shower. Adam shook his head to clear it and headed to the bathroom. 

***

Adam didn’t see Ronan outside of Latin class or away from Gansey. After school, he had a shift at the garage. Toward the end of it, his phone buzzed with a text. 

_you gonna be awake enough for me to come over later?_

It was stupid to lie to himself about how it thrilled him, so Adam didn’t. Ever since Ronan’s injury, Adam had been the one always making the first move, putting himself out there to Ronan and waiting to be rebuffed or accepted. But now Ronan was actually texting him first. Things were changing.

But unfortunately Adam still knew himself and his schedule and what he needed. _Not awake enough for anything fun. I don’t get off until 10 and I have at least 2 hours of homework._ Not the kind of homework that he could get done while Ronan was there bugging him, either. But Adam didn’t need to point that out, because Ronan wasn’t used to that routine anymore, they hadn’t done it since his injury.

After re-reading what he sent, Adam sent another text that said _Sorry. Maybe tomorrow after school?_

_sure. I told gansey what happened._

Adam typed something then deleted it, typed something else and deleted that too. He was sweating--he was working, of course he was sweating, but the trickle by his eyebrow felt specific. Finally he decided on, _About the spell in cabeswater or about making out?_

At least the reply was immediate; Ronan didn’t give Adam time to anxiously work himself up. _both_

All right. So Gansey knew, so Ronan had told him. Annoyance made itself known in Adam’s stomach like a swallowed cherry pit, and there was hurt there, too. Mostly, Adam realized, because he suspected that before the amnesia, Ronan would have asked Adam if it was okay first before mentioning anything to Gansey.

But it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t have to be a big deal, Adam told himself. _What did he say?_

_he was surprised you swung that way. i guess he already knew i did. and he was worried about you almost drowning._

Adam fought the urge to ask if Gansey had seemed hurt, at not knowing that Adam liked men--not knowing that Adam liked Ronan. He could ask Gansey himself. Would ask Gansey himself, as soon as he found the courage. He didn’t want to talk about Gansey anymore now, not with Ronan via text. _We can try the spell again. I can figure out what I did wrong and fix it._

The reply took so long to come that Adam had almost given up, had gotten back involved in his job. _let’s not do it by open water next time. i don’t want to catch a cold fishing you out._

Adam was alone in the shop, so he let himself smile wide. A young part of him very much wanted to tease Ronan for worrying about Adam, but this was the wrong medium for pigtail-pulling. He sent back _Noted_ and got back to work, and Ronan didn’t text him again.

Studying for his calculus test after the end of his shift was hell. Adam’s eyelids felt coated with coarse sand and his eyes kept skittering over the problems he was trying to solve; he had to read the numbers several times before any kind of comprehension could be achieved, and what should have taken two hours took three.

Adam fell heavily asleep. He was right back in Cabeswater the second he closed his eyes. There were clouds overhead and a young, blonde girl next to him who he’d never seen before.

 _Orphan Girl._ The knowledge was dropped cold into his mind. Adam didn’t know why he knew it but couldn’t remember not knowing it. He gave her a nod hello, and she reached up to take his hand.

She said something in Latin that Adam mostly didn’t understand, but he got the concept of giving--her giving him something, or Cabeswater giving him something. Even dreaming, he was too tired tonight to translate any further. Then she jerked her chin towards something, a pond, and Adam realized he was standing in the meadow where they’d tried to get Ronan’s memories back.

Adam walked toward the pond and Orphan Girl went with him. When he knelt at the edge of the water, he could see that it was clearer than it had been on Sunday. More shallow, too. He could see the bottom, and there was something there, some kind of cylindrical object.

Adam looked at Orphan Girl. She said something else in Latin, and didn’t move to stop him when Adam reached into the water. For some reason he was expecting resistance when his hand closed around the object, but he was able to take it easily.

He blinked down at it in his hand. It was a small toy kaleidoscope, the outside a dark brown. Adam rubbed mud off the end of it and looked through it, and saw a starscape that made his head spin.

Orphan Girl spoke, but Adam was already waking up.

The dream took a while to leave him completely, the scent of moss and pond water still sharp in Adam’s nose. He opened his eyes, the gray ceiling of his apartment coming into focus. There was something in his hand.

Adam’s heart slid sideways. He knew before looking, from the shape of it, that it was the kaleidoscope. A stillness settled over him that he recognized as shock. He looked through it, and saw an impossible view, nothing that could be held by a normal child’s toy.

An impossible view for an impossible object. Adam wanted to throw it across the room and tightened his fist around it instead. His eyes went to the plum, that fucking plum, and its dark color now seemed like an accusation.

It was early. Adam had woken up twenty minutes before his alarm. He called Gansey as he yanked on his jeans, told him to wake Ronan, and hung up. His body was moving on autopilot, his fingers grabbing his keys and locking the apartment door behind him, his feet clattering on the steps leading down to the street.

Adam closed his eyes, focused his thoughts briefly, and opened his eyes to see Monmouth in front of him. It had become easy as breathing and just as fast. Why the _fuck_ hadn’t Adam been more worried about this, the helpful plants and the teleportation and fucking all of it? Why had he been so greedy? 

When Adam knocked on the door Gansey opened it immediately. His hair looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and his eyebrows were worried. “Adam, what the hell?”

Adam pushed past him. Ronan was in front of the kitchen door, groggy and unfocused. Before he could echo Gansey’s question, Adam demanded, “When was the last time you took something from your dreams? Before the plum.”

Ronan squinted at him. “The fuck?”

“Answer the question.”

Ronan scowled, but then rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and seemed to think for a second. His scowl shifted into something slightly alarmed. “Maybe three weeks ago,” he said slowly.

Adam had hoped so hard to be wrong. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to leave and go someplace far away from Ronan and Cabeswater and himself. Ronan was looking at Adam like Adam had some kind of solution to the problem that was murkily taking shape, and Adam didn’t have anything like that to offer. 

He wished that he’d had more than one night with Ronan before ruining everything. He even wished for just a moment that he’d never made the sacrifice. Nothing had ever made him want that before, not even when Cabeswater gave him blank hours on the side of a D.C. highway, but this was worse.

He pulled the kaleidoscope from his jacket pocket and held it out to Ronan. “I took this from a dream.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not think that the 300 Fox Way psychics are unhelpful; that is all Ronan.

On Monday after school, Ronan met Gansey at the Pig. It had been hours since Ronan had woken up in Adam’s arms, and Ronan had managed to think of very little else in the time since. Latin class had been a special kind of hell or heaven, sitting next to Adam and catching his eye and remembering, remembering. 

Sunday night with Adam had been the first time since the amnesia’s onset that Ronan had felt like he was actually making a new memory, a good memory, something that he might think back on years later. It seemed dangerous to think of it as the beginning of anything, so Ronan had been trying to avoid that, but he couldn’t avoid the warmth that suffused him like sunlight every time he met Adam’s eyes.

So when he climbed into the Pig’s front seat and Gansey started the car, when Gansey asked him how he’d been, probably expecting a one-word answer--Ronan didn’t stop himself. He laughed and laughed again and then, when Gansey shot him a bemused look while peeling out of the Aglionby parking lot, Ronan said, “Adam kissed me last night.”

Gansey’s head swiveled satisfyingly, and the look on his face made Ronan laugh again. “Uh, did you kiss him back?”

Ronan appreciated that Gansey hadn’t asked him to repeat himself, instead getting straight to the relevant questions. “Sure did. Kissed him back a lot and then I spent the night.”

“I already knew you’d spent the night,” Gansey said listlessly. “You texted me that yesterday so I wouldn’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to know why I spent the night.”

They were stopped at a red light, and Gansey briefly covered his eyes with one hand. “Oh my god,” he said, muffled. “I didn’t know Adam was--that he liked men.”

“Now you do,” Ronan said. Had he ever gloated this much, about anything? Then part of Gansey’s reaction caught up with him and he frowned. “But you knew I did?”

“Well, more or less,” Gansey said. The light changed and he put both hands on the wheel, accelerating fast. 

“What do you mean, more or less? Did we ever talk about it?” Ronan wanted to continue harassing Gansey with details about his night at Adam’s place, but this seemed weirdly important. 

“More like, we talked around it a few times,” Gansey said. “I couldn’t help but notice that you never talked about girls or tried to date anyone. And--” Gansey’s eyes slid toward Ronan, and he said his next words with precision, watching for Ronan’s reaction. “Kavinsky liked to insinuate things. Mostly about your relationship with me. He was wrong about that, obviously, but. It never seemed to piss you off like I would have expected, or at least it didn’t piss you off the _way_ I would have expected.”

Ronan looked out the window. Discussion of Kavinsky always made him want to change the subject, but. This was different and he didn’t know why. “Was Kavinsky gay?”

“I think so, but I don’t know for sure.” He didn’t say ‘but you probably knew.’ Ronan heard it anyway.

Ronan didn’t say anything, and the streets raced by until they were close to the same block as Monmouth. Ronan said, “Can you--” and Gansey said “Yeah,” and the Pig shot past the turn they would have made to head home.

Gansey spoke next. “When did you know? About, you know. Your preferences.”

‘Preferences.’ Ronan barked out a laugh and looked over at Gansey, who had a slight smile on his lips. He was looking at the road instead of at Ronan, which made it easier to speak. “Dunno. It wasn’t like lightning struck me all of a sudden, or anything. More like I always looked at boys more than I looked at girls, and eventually I realized that I’d probably never start looking at girls.”

Then sometime after that realization, sometime during the last year and a half that he didn’t remember, Ronan had developed feelings for Adam. Finding out about his own crush made a lot of things slot into place: Adam’s motivation for breaking into his room that first night, him telling Adam about Matthew’s origins, and most of all the ferocious degree to which Adam wanted Ronan to get his memories back.

Finding out that he’d been, for all intents and purposes, attempting to woo Adam before he’d lost his memories, had been both surprising and not at all surprising. Ronan hadn’t consciously fantasized about kissing Adam before he’d actually done it, but he’d sure as hell noticed him. He’d dreamed about him. And he’d spent most of his hours in class today making up for lost time, in terms of fantasies. It made sense that his past self, a person that Ronan had begun to think of as a different being entirely, had chosen Adam to want. 

Ronan had never really wanted someone before, not in a way that was more intense or meaningful than sneaking looks at boys in the locker room. He’d never locked onto someone and thought, _he’s the one._ There had been something like that in the initial flood of his feelings for Gansey, maybe, but that had settled out into something a lot more important and permanent than a crush. 

It felt bizarre, talking about any of this with Gansey. His ‘preferences.’ He’d never talked about those with anyone. But with each word Ronan spoke, something loosened in his chest. And Gansey was just so wonderfully himself, nodding thoughtfully at Ronan’s words like he was listening to a politician’s platform. Ronan couldn’t help his own gratitude for Gansey’s Ganseyness, but he tried not to show it, schooling his features away from anything insipid.

“I guess I asked because there’s this assumption that gay people get the lightbulb moment,” Gansey mused. “That one day they wake up and suddenly know they’re different, or they decide to be different. But it’s hard to imagine that for you--hard to imagine that you suddenly knew something about yourself that you didn’t know before. You strike me as someone who has always known themselves. Anyway, that’s why I asked.” 

Ronan ducked his head against a smile. He liked hearing Gansey analyze him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over his knee and remembered what Gansey had texted back last night, when Ronan had told him the spell went wrong and he was staying with Adam: _I’m sorry! Tell Adam I’m glad he’s okay and I’m glad you’re together. Stay safe!!_

“When did you know you liked Blue?” Ronan asked. 

When he looked over at Gansey, Gansey looked pained. “Um,” he said. “Does Adam know? The first time you talked to me about this, a few months ago, you said you wouldn’t tell him.”

“He’s definitely figured it out without my help,” Ronan said, rolling his eyes. “He told me about you guys when he caught me up on stuff, that first night.”

“Fuck.” 

Ronan raised an eyebrow at the curse, and at Gansey’s reddening cheeks. Gansey sighed and kept talking. “We weren’t trying to keep it secret from him, not exactly. Just--we were waiting for the right time to tell him.” 

“Yeah, well, you missed the boat there,” Ronan said. 

“I suppose it’s only fair. He didn’t tell me he was into guys, after all.” Gansey sounded unhappy now, and Ronan sighed, reached out to knock his fist lightly against Gansey’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t take that personally. I didn’t tell you either, remember?”

“That’s different,” Gansey said, but he didn’t elaborate how. 

“Whatever. You didn’t answer my question. When did you know you liked Blue?”

Ronan found himself oddly sincere about wanting the answer to this; it wasn’t like he could remember seeing Blue and Gansey interact before his accident. He had no idea what the story was there, no idea what Blue looked like through Gansey’s eyes.

Gansey gave him a look like he thought Ronan was mocking him, and Ronan frowned back. So Gansey looked back at the road and talked in slow measured sentences, talked about meeting Blue and getting to know her over yogurt and midnight car rides and helping her find her mother. Every once in a while he would glance at Ronan for some kind of confirmation that Ronan was interested and wanted him to continue. Ronan would roll his eyes or prod him in the shoulder or leg or make a get-on-with-it gesture, and Gansey would smile and keep talking.

When the conversation topic shifted back to Ronan and Adam, Ronan gave Gansey details about the disaster of the spell. Gansey’s reaction to hearing about Adam falling in the lake echoed Ronan’s own: he seemed starkly horrified, and thanked Ronan more often than was necessary for getting Adam out of there.

They didn’t return to Monmouth until after the sun had gone down. Gansey pulled Ronan into a hug when they stepped inside their home, and Ronan grumbled but didn’t push him off, closing his eyes against the steady feeling of Gansey’s arms around him, always.

***

On Tuesday morning, Adam burst into Monmouth, sudden as rain turning to hail, and Ronan wasn’t nearly awake enough to deal with it. Gansey had woken him up by shaking his shoulder and calling his name only a couple of minutes ago, and most of his thoughts were still revolving around coffee and his need to piss. 

When Adam showed him something in his hand and claimed to have pulled it out of a dream, comprehension didn’t dawn on Ronan immediately. But Adam had asked him about the last time he’d dreamed something, and before the question Ronan hadn’t even realized how long it had been since the pistol--but three weeks, he didn’t think he’d ever gone so long before pulling something out of a dream before. 

It sent a shiver down Ronan’s spine and he wasn’t thinking about coffee anymore. 

Adam held out a toy that looked like something you’d buy out of the Discovery Channel store at an airport, and Ronan looked at it blankly, not really hearing the words Adam had just said. 

“What,” Ronan said, at the same time that Gansey said, “ _What?_ ”

Adam tsked impatiently. “Just take it. Look through it.”

Ronan took it, and when he held the narrower end up to his eye and looked through, he saw--stars, galaxies, great whorls of space that halted his breaths. He quickly lowered it, holding it at arm’s length and staring. The other end of the kaleidoscope had only bits of colored plastic in it, there was no way space should be visible in this thing. And Adam had created it.

“Cabeswater,” Ronan said slowly as his waking mind put the pieces together. “It’s made you a Greywaren.”

When Ronan looked up, Adam’s jaw was clenched. “ _The_ Greywaren,” he said, and it sounded like each word cost him. “It’s made me _the_ Greywaren.”

Ronan suddenly felt very young and afraid. He was back in the meadow, watching Adam fall sideways into the water. He was four years old, the first real memory he had, waking up with his head in his father’s lap with his small hands sticky with sap he’d dreamed up himself.

“Adam, you have to _fix this,_ ” Gansey said furiously, staring at Adam. He was livid, and Ronan realized with a start that it was on his behalf. 

Adam flinched with his whole body and then turned on Gansey, meeting his anger head-on. “You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I think you’ve been taking whatever abilities Cabeswater gives you without question,” Gansey fired back. “You’ve been taking all the power you want and this is where it leads! I tried to warn you--”

“How was I supposed to know Cabeswater would take anything from Ronan and give it to me?” Adam said. They were both shouting now, and it was surreal to realize that they were fighting over him. All Ronan could think about was the weight of the dream object in his hand. 

“You could have asked it!” Gansey said. “You could have done anything at all to find out _why_ your powers were growing, and instead you’ve just been teleporting to school! You could have asked me for help, I would’ve--”

“I’m not some knowledge quest for you, Gansey,” Adam said, his words like ice shards cutting through the air. “I’m not your research project now that you don’t have Glendower to occupy yourself.”

This was the first time that Ronan had ever seen Adam and Gansey fight, but they spat words at each other like it was a regular practice. The fight had ceased to be about Ronan; there was no real reason for Ronan to be here, so he left, moving past Adam for the door. Adam called his name, but Ronan didn’t turn around.

He was in bare feet and boxers, and he realized once he was down the block that he still held the kaleidoscope. It was early, 7am still a long way off, and frost clung to the grass on each lawn he passed. 

He wondered if his powers disappearing had anything to do with kissing Adam for the first time, with sleeping in his bed. It seemed significant that Adam had dreamed something up the first time they did anything together. Maybe it was the same kind of shitty prophecy that Blue had been given: _The first boy you kiss will steal the most important thing your dead father ever gave you._

Ronan had spent many hours of his childhood daydreaming about what life might be like without his powers. It wasn’t so much that the things he dreamed made life so difficult, because back then he’d had parents to help take care of anything he came up with. It was just the standard childish yearning to be normal, to fit in with other kids. He’d thought that maybe if he wasn’t so different, if his family wasn’t so different, it would be easier to make friends with others on the playground. 

Ronan had stopped caring what other kids thought as he grew up. When he’d hit Aglionby, other boys had been impressed by his money and his attitude, and then Gansey had come along and everyone else had ceased to matter. It had been a long time since Ronan had contemplated a life in which his dreams were just dreams, but now this was apparently the life he was living.

Three weeks. He’d been sleeping better, easier, he’d grown used to waking up languidly without the tension of discovering some new dream thing. Why hadn’t he noticed the shift? It had been the strangest month of his life--he’d essentially been living in the future and trying to catch up the whole time, on top of struggling to accept the shape of his father’s death. Everything had been so different that he hadn’t noticed the one thing more fundamentally different than all the rest.

He still had to piss. Ronan veered off into an alley behind a coffee shop and aimed at a wall that had doubtless been pissed on before. It wasn’t like anyone was awake to see. He tucked the kaleidoscope under his armpit while he pissed, and when he was done he leaned against the opposite alley wall and let himself slump. 

He had known he hadn’t dreamed up that fucking plum. His dreams Sunday night had taken him someplace cold and metal and concrete, nothing like an orchard. But it hadn’t occurred to him that Adam could have dreamed it--Ronan had thought it was Cabeswater’s doing, maybe. Everything to do with Ronan’s mind was Cabeswater’s doing, in a larger sense, but he’d thought that tucking fruit in Adam’s bed had been the forest’s way of trying to tell them something.

Ronan wanted his father. The desire was so strong and sudden that tears pricked his eyes, and he screwed his thumbs into his eye sockets and dug until the pain made him see colors. He’d never be able to ask his dad any questions about the big Lynch secret ever again, and there was no one else who could give him any answers. Maybe Kavinsky could have, or maybe he actually had--there was no way for Ronan to find out about anything that might have gone down when he and Kavinsky had been alone. That door was probably locked forever.

‘Forever.’ With an ugly jolt Ronan realized that he had stopped thinking of his memories’ return as a likely event, or even just a possible one. Something about their disastrous attempt on Sunday had felt final, and Ronan couldn’t imagine trying again, couldn’t imagine succeeding. 

So maybe this was his life now: a dead father, a year and a half lost, and no more dream things ever again. 

The thought made Ronan’s chest heave, and he was not going to do this, he was not going to break down in an alley that smelled like his own piss early on a Tuesday morning. He sniffed hard and took the kaleidoscope in hand again, peering through it for something to do, something to distract him. 

The view really was beautiful. It was like those pictures you saw from the Hubble telescope or something. Looking at space made Henrietta feel far off, made Ronan feel like it didn’t matter what he was or what he could or couldn’t do. Made him feel like maybe he could get outside himself.

Ronan lowered the kaleidoscope, his breathing back under control. It was probably around 6:30. His classes started in an hour, and Gansey would be anxious if Ronan skipped. Ronan didn’t feel like making Gansey anxious, not after watching Gansey yell at Adam on Ronan’s account. He left the alley and started walking back to Monmouth, each step slow and reluctant. 

When he got back, Adam and Gansey weren’t fighting anymore. They sat facing each other on the couch, and both looked up when Ronan walked in. 

Noah was there, too, leaning against the wall. Ronan pointed at him. “Did you know anything about this? About Adam becoming the Greywaren?” He let his voice get harsh, turning on Noah because he was angry and wanted to be angry at someone who wasn’t Adam.

Noah held up his hands in a don’t-shoot-me gesture. “I had no idea, I swear. Whatever’s going on, it’s not something I can sense.”

“We have some ideas, some things we can try,” Gansey said, looking at Ronan like he was a bomb about to go off. “We’re going to fix this.”

Gansey’s tone brooked no argument, like he expected reality to warp according to his words. Reality usually did. But there was that word again, ‘fix.’ That word meant only failure, and something inside Ronan howled. 

“Sure we are,” Ronan said, and Gansey winced at the level of caustic sarcasm. “We’ve been doing such a bang-up job so far.” He looked at Adam, who was looking at the floor. Adam seemed tired and more than a little lost and Ronan thought of being kissed by him. That felt like it had happened a hundred years ago.

“Don’t give up,” Noah said quietly. The howl inside Ronan found a target.

“Great advice from a dead boy,” he said. “You should give motivational speeches. Tell people not to give up their hopes and dreams, tell them how it’s possible to come back from getting your own face bashed in--”

“Ronan,” Gansey said.

Ronan’s mouth was filled with more cruel words, but he didn’t let them loose. He loved and loathed, in turn, Gansey’s ability to gag him like this. He wanted to scream at all three of them, but Noah was already turning to smoke, the hurt feeling in his eyes the last thing to fade. 

“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Ronan said, turning away from the two boys who wanted so badly to fix him. “Someone make some fucking coffee.”

***

In the middle of the afternoon, Ronan got a voicemail from the hospital in Arlington informing him that his MRI results were in, and that he would have to log in to his online patient portal in order to check them--for confidentiality reasons they could not give him the results via voicemail. Ronan laughed, hyena-like, in the middle of the Aglionby library, prompting Gansey to ask him what was going on. When Ronan told him, Gansey insisted that Ronan check the damn results immediately, and no matter how much Ronan swore at him he wouldn’t be dissuaded. So Ronan used one of the library’s computers to create an account in the online patient portal while Gansey sat next to him, managing to convey a sense of hovering even though he wasn’t looking over Ronan’s shoulder.

“You can look, I don’t care,” Ronan told him. 

Gansey was scandalized. “That’s your private medical information! I would _never._ ”

Ronan rolled his eyes. In a few clicks he had the lab results, which told him that he didn’t have a brain tumor but that something weird was definitely going on. There seemed to be some kind of subtle structural brain change--they wanted to do more tests to determine the scope and effects of it.

Ronan found himself surprisingly chilled, seeing this. Gansey, who was now looking over Ronan’s shoulder after Ronan had invited him to a second time, said, “Oh dear.”

“It’s probably just picking up that I can’t dream shit anymore,” Ronan said. His voice came out much less dismissive than he’d been trying for, and he clicked out of the online patient portal.

“We can go back to Arlington--” Gansey started to say, but paused when Ronan shook his head emphatically.

“Fuck that. They can’t do shit about people with magic powers. And I’m not going through any more tests.”

“They could give us some insight into how to get your magic back.” Gansey’s breath tickled the back of Ronan’s neck. Ronan did not reach back to touch where Gansey’s breath had been, did not turn around to ask Gansey for any kind of comfort. He closed the internet browser and logged out of his student account, then shoved his chair back.

“This is about magic. About Adam. Doctors won’t know anything about it. Even Adam himself doesn’t know anything about it. Only Cabeswater might know.”

***

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Magic powers aren’t transferrable.” Blue looked from Adam and Ronan and back to Adam again. Ronan was relieved that she hadn’t gotten angry with Adam the way Gansey had. Blue just seemed to be frustrated by the unlikelihood of it all. “It’s not like I can make anyone else into a mirror. I don’t think my mom can give her psychic abilities to anyone else, either.”

“Different kinds of magic might operate on different sets of rules,” Gansey said. “It’s not like your abilities come from the same source as Ronan and Adam’s.”

They (the four of them, no one had seen Noah since Ronan’s words this morning) had converged in the 300 Fox Way kitchen after school ended. Ronan couldn’t help his awareness that this time had originally been slated for him and Adam to be alone together, before everything had gone to shit. Instead of kissing Adam he was back in this house that he hated, and Gansey was probably going to make him sit through another tarot reading as soon as Calla got home from work.

“Yes, but there’s still no precedent,” Blue said. She had removed one of her hair clips and was clicking it open and closed. Every time she glanced at Ronan, the frown line between her eyebrows deepened. Ronan bristled against the suggestion of pity, but maybe it wasn’t pity on her face. Concern, maybe? That was still weird but less offensive.

“That we know of,” Adam said. He was sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, radiating stiff defensiveness. He hadn’t looked Ronan in the eye once since they’d all met at the Pig after class to come over here, and he hadn’t offered to teleport them instead of driving.

Gansey turned to Ronan. “In your family, have you ever heard of your abilities getting passed from one person to another?”

Ronan looked over Gansey’s head at the wall, swallowing his unease. It was one thing to know that he’d told his secrets to this whole room, and another thing to answer questions like this. It just seemed wrong. 

Not that Gansey’s question had a particularly exciting answer. “As far as I know the only people to do this were me and my dad,” he said, voice as flat as he could manage. “And no, we couldn’t pass it around like a party favor.”

Gansey plucked a mint leaf out of his pocket and chewed on it thoughtfully. “I wonder if Kavinsky could.”

Ronan kicked at the table leg. “Not like we can ask him.”

“Did he have any friends he didn’t dream up that we could ask?” Blue said, sounding like she hated the suggestion she herself was making. When Ronan glared at her, she pulled a face at him. “I’m just trying to think through any possible option.”

Ronan didn’t want to talk about Kavinsky and all the things that Ronan might have learned from him. Lost knowledge, as out of reach as the lost city of fucking Atlantis. He stood up from the table abruptly, making his chair clatter. “I’m going out. Grab me when your auntie gets back.”

“You know her name,” Blue said grouchily. Ronan didn’t respond, just made for the back door.

There was a large tree in Blue’s backyard, and Ronan went to sit against the trunk. He didn’t know what kind of tree it was; Adam would know, he thought, and then wondered why he thought that. Adam hadn’t expressed an interest in plant science in the time Ronan had known him; he just happened to be mind-melded with a magic forest.

Ronan spent a few minutes alone, listening to the leaves rustle and trying to think of nothing at all. He was a little drowsy. It occurred to him that he could drift off right now if he wanted, and not worry about waking up with anything unmanageable in his hands. 

Then he heard the creak of a door opening, and he was both surprised and somehow not surprised at all to see Adam come into view. Adam was still holding himself like he expected more people to yell at him, arms wrapped around his middle and shoulders wary. But he nodded to Ronan and sat down a few feet away.

“I don’t want to talk,” Ronan said.

A smile plucked up the corner of Adam’s mouth. “The fuck would I talk about?” he said, and there was a joke there that Ronan wasn’t getting. Adam seemed to immediately realize that his words were lost on Ronan; his smile faded and he looked away, out at the road leading up to the house.

True to his word, Adam didn’t say anything for the next several minutes. Ronan was the one to break the silence eventually, the bark of the tree scratchy against the back of his head. “Do you know what kind of tree this is?”

Adam gave him an odd look. “It’s a beech tree. Didn’t you grow up on a farm?”

“I never learned what things were called,” Ronan muttered. He remembered his mother trying to teach him the names of plants and flowers, when he’d been a kid. The information always seemed to go in one ear and out the other, and after a while she just gave up. It seemed like she’d had more luck with that sort of thing with Declan.

Ronan had always had trouble caring about anything his father didn’t care about. But his father would never care about anything again, and Ronan didn’t understand how he was supposed to operate in the world with that kind of empty space. 

Adam picked at blades of glass in front of his knee. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Ronan’s whole body pulled taut. “Don’t apologize,” he said, and it came out so angry, angrier than Ronan had intended.

Adam’s shoulders hunched. “Why shouldn’t I?”

"Because it's not your fault," Ronan said. He tried to reign in the anger but his voice still came out sour. "I don't know why Gansey got his panties in a bunch this morning. It's not like you did anything to me."

"Yes I did," Adam said sharply. "I took your powers from you, your fucking dream magic. Do you not get that?”

"I get it," Ronan said, digging his fingernails into his palms. 

"Why aren't you pissed at me then?" Adam exploded, his hands jerking in the air. "This is huge, this is even worse than the amnesia! Gansey ripped me a new one and you don't even seem to care!"

"I care!" Ronan yelled back. "What do you want me to do, accuse you of _violating me_ or something?" Adam ducked his head like Ronan had taken a swing at him, and Ronan gritted his teeth and tried to level his voice. "It's not like either of us know what the fuck is going on. It's not like you asked Cabeswater to do this when you took a swan dive into that hell lake."

"I could have," Adam said, head still ducked. "You don't know."

Ronan stared at him. He felt like the world had slipped just slightly off his axis: he was yelling at someone because they were angry with him for not being angry enough. "Uh, I guess I don't? But why would you have done that, that's stupid."

"You said you didn't trust me--"

"Christ, Parrish! I was lying, all right?" Adam looked up and opened his mouth, and Ronan leaned forward far enough to jab a finger at his chest. "And don't tell me I never lie, I don’t want to hear that shit."

Adam pushed Ronan's hand from his chest. "Look, even if I didn't do anything to make this happen, it's still really bad, okay? Cabeswater giving me all this--I don't know where it's going to end, I don't know if I can stop it or reverse this or anything. We could be stuck like this. Forever."

"No shit, you think that thought hasn't occurred to me? Stop," Ronan said, when Adam still looked poised to argue. "Stop trying to freak me out because you feel guilty. I'm freaked out enough."

Adam seemed to deflate. He went back to plucking blades of grass and Ronan stared at the sky over his shoulder. The sun hung low over the horizon and clouds were beginning to get pink. Blue’s house was far enough from the center of town, far enough into the hills that the view from here was a little similar to the view from the Barns.

"I've slept really well for the past month." The words were out before Ronan had even imagined speaking. He didn't know where this was going, but words continued to tumble out, clumsy and awkward. "I've had plenty of nightmares, really bad ones, but I haven't been waking up with any fucking vultures." There was a question in Adam's eyes at that, but Ronan didn't stop to explain about the vulture. "I hadn't even realized that I'd gotten used to the peace. But I kind of did. I kind of stopped dreading waking up."

When Ronan met Adam's eyes, Adam was staring at him open-mouthed. "Are you--are you trying to _thank me?_ "

Ronan covered his face in one hand. "No, jesus. I'm just--I don't know. It's complicated."

"I'm getting that." 

Ronan heard Adam sigh, and he spread his fingers on his face to peek out between them. Adam was folded up now, hugging his legs and resting his forehead on one knee. Ronan watched the way Adam’s light hair flopped forward. Two nights ago he'd fallen asleep with Adam's body pressed close behind him, and he'd thought about being naked with Adam eventually, and it had been a nice thought. It could still be a nice thought, maybe. Even if everything was objectively worse than ever.

Ronan let his hand drop. "It's going to suck, you know. It's not all plums and space toys."

Adam snorted and looked up, meeting Ronan's eyes. "I know. Sometimes it's creatures that try to cut you to ribbons. I haven't not been thinking about that."

Ronan opened his mouth to say something else, he wasn't sure what, but then he heard the sound of an engine getting closer. When he turned to look over his shoulder, he could see Calla's car pulling into the driveway. He stood up and turned to Adam, offering him a hand. "Come on. Let's go listen to some unhelpful psychics."

"That's not fair," Adam said, but he took Ronan's outstretched hand and let him pull him to his feet.

***

There were no tarot cards this time. Instead Calla made Ronan sit down next to her on the couch. Ronan didn’t like the way she looked at him: like she’d just eaten him for dinner, but now had bones in her mouth. 

“Closer,” Calla said, patting the seat next to her. Ronan had automatically gone to the far end. “I won’t bite unless it’s called for.”

Ronan looked at Gansey--force of habit. Gansey gave him a slight nod, and Ronan pressed his lips together and scooted closer. “What are you going to do?”

Calla had already been reaching out to him. Something in his expression made her sigh and draw her hands back. “Nothing you don’t agree to first,” she said. “I suppose you don’t remember the first time I did this? Of course you don’t. All I need to do is touch you, snake. That’s all.”

It sounded like a lot to Ronan, but he gave her a stiff nod, and didn’t move away when she reached for him again. She touched the back of his neck, just a press of two fingers, and Ronan had expected some kind of jolt or sensation, but there was nothing. 

Ronan waited. Calla’s hand didn’t move from where she was touching him. She closed her eyes and started to frown. Across the room, Gansey and Blue shifted in their seats. When Ronan glanced their way, he saw twin looks of concern on each face. It made him want to pull away, but Calla was gripping him now, her fingers digging into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

The room was dead silent. Finally, fucking finally Calla shuddered and jerked her hand back, cradling it to her chest like she’d touched a hot stove. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, and she breathed through her mouth. Her gaze was averted away from Ronan as she stared down at her hand.

“Well?” Ronan said, louder than necessary. Something about this brought his natural rudeness to the surface. 

"I won't be rushed," Calla snapped. Ronan sat back. He glanced at Gansey again, and Gansey had his lips pursed, looking between Calla and Ronan and back to Calla. He looked nervous, maybe even outright scared, which made Ronan's heartbeat skitter.

"We're not like computer programs, you know." Maura's voice broke the silence mildly, as casual as if she'd been offering them tea. She had her hands folded in her lap in the large sofa chair across the room and looked perfectly calm. "You can't just enter in data and expect an immediate answer. It's not exact and it's not always so clear. Adam knows."

Ronan, Blue and Gansey all looked toward Adam, who combed a hand back through his hair.

"I don't have psychometry," Adam said.

Maura waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. You know what it's like to use magic to look for something, anything. It's like a badly written program: it gives you everything, including all the bugs you yourself wrote into the code, and whatever answer you get is determined by the skill you bring to the reading."

"Quiet, Maura," Calla said. "I'm plenty skilled." She finally met Ronan's eyes, one of her thick eyebrows rising to her hairline.

"No one said you weren't," Maura said, but quieted when Calla glared.

"So--" Ronan started, but stopped when Calla grabbed suddenly for his hand. She clutched his fingers in a grip that felt tight enough to grind his bones together, and when she spoke Ronan could have sworn he heard an undercurrent of something just slightly _else_ beneath her regular voice.

"Trouble's what you're in," she said, and across the room Adam's body jerked. "It all flows downstream, toward him and away from you. You have to build a dam. You have to go underground."

She released him. Ronan yanked his hand back and stared at her, then at Adam. Adam was leaning over his knees, his head in his hands. He looked like he'd just taken a blow.

"What the fuck," Ronan said. He heard the quaver in his voice and stopped, swallowed. "What the hell does any of that mean?"

Calla stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off her skirt. "I need a drink," she said, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Ronan was right behind her. He stood in the doorway and watched as she fetched a bottle of gin from a cupboard above the fridge, then opened the fridge and stared at its contents. She made a little 'ah' sound and leaned forward, and when she kicked the fridge door closed Ronan could see she was holding tonic, a lime and basil.

"I want to know what you saw when you touched me," Ronan said as Calla fetched a cutting board and started slicing the lime. "None of that cryptic bullshit. Tell me exactly what you saw."

"It's not as simple as that, cupcake." Calla waved her knife around. Ronan had preferred the 'snake' moniker. "Not everything I saw was relevant, and the images came so fast that some of them blurred together. I gave you the purpose I gleaned. That's what you need."

"So tell me what I don't need."

Calla poured more than two fingers of gin into a glass, added not-much tonic, plunked in several ice cubes and squeezed her lime before turning to face him. "Do you want one of these?"

Ronan had been gearing up to yell, and the offer stopped him short. The only adult who'd ever offered him alcohol was his father, and only in the last year and only on holidays. Calla was giving him an even, unimpressed look, like she didn't much care what his answer was.

Ronan didn't know if he liked gin; he'd never tried it. The kitchen of Blue's mom's house seemed like an odd place to start, but then he thought about the way his day had started and the way Adam had looked just now with his head in his hands.

"Sure," Ronan said, and Calla turned back around, opening a cupboard and getting out a second glass.

"You don't remember the first time I used my ability on you," Calla said while her hands were busy with the second drink. "It was the day you met us, the day you met Blue. When I touched you then, every impression I might have received was overwhelmed by the sheer power--the busy creating that you did every time you closed your eyes. I didn't know what I was seeing, at the time. I just got the idea that you had all this life and stuff inside you. Later when I found out what you could do with your dreams, it made sense."

"Get to the point," Ronan muttered. It made him feel weirdly self-conscious, listening to her talk about a meeting he couldn't remember. She had touched him the very first time they'd met?

Calla added the basil to both drinks and turned around, holding the drink out to Ronan. He crossed the room and took it, and Calla clinked their glasses together.

"Cheers," she said, and tossed back a full third of her drink. Ronan took a cautious sip of his.

"What I saw this time wasn't anything like that," Calla said. "That creation energy was completely gone, and I'm sure if I touched Adam that's where I'd find it. I got the sense of--well, like I said, water flowing downstream. Something is still flowing out of you and into him, power or magic or just your life, and if you don't stop it I don't know where you'll end up. Oh, and I definitely got an eyeful of you in his bed, so thanks for that."

To his horror, Ronan felt himself blush. He took a larger gulp of his drink and stared into the glass rather than look at Calla. "Uh, we didn’t--um," he heard himself saying, as if he owed her an explanation of what he did with Adam or anyone else.

"Oh, I know--if I'd been given a vision of anyone without their pants on, I would not be offering you a drink right now, I'd be bleaching my eyeballs."

A nasty thought occurred to Ronan, making the basil and lime taste like ash on his tongue. He turned around to set the drink carefully down on the kitchen table. "Do you think--me and Adam--is that why it's happening?"

Calla snorted. "No. You're not under that sort of curse. The power drain started before he kissed you and it will continue regardless of how all that plays out."

Ronan's shoulders sagged. "So how do we fix it?"

"I _told_ you." Calla drained the rest of her drink, and when she met Ronan's eyes again her cheeks were quite red. Her mouth twisted like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Go underground. You need the same kind of grave that almost took Maura away from us. Go back to that particular nightmare and maybe you can get it back."

Ronan didn't know what 'it' was: his magic? His memories? Both, dare he hope for both? "Go underground and _do what_?"

"Rot," Calla said. "Don't look at me like that, I'm just telling you what I saw. Cabeswater wants you to be a sleeper, wants you to be part of its dirt. It's the only way it will let you in far enough to change anything."

Ronan turned and walked out of the room, his drink forgotten. The few sips of gin he'd had (he liked it much less than he liked whiskey) buzzed behind his teeth. He could feel how upset his body was, his heart rate jacked, his face flushed and his muscles jittery. It seemed far off. He wasn't actually upset. He wasn't anything. He could have been six feet under already.

When Ronan got back to the living room, Gansey and Blue and Adam all looked at him. The three of them had taken up Ronan and Calla's spots on the couch, their heads bent together in fierce conversation.

Ronan knew they'd been talking about him but was too exhausted to care or wonder what had been said. "Let's go," he said, and turned away from Gansey's answering frown. He left the house and went to the car, leaning against the Pig's side and waiting for his friends to catch up.

It took a while, longer than Ronan had figured. By the time Gansey and Adam finally left the house, the numbness he'd chosen instead of visceral panic had left him, replaced by boredom and exhaustion.

Blue lingered in the doorway, watching them as they climbed into the Pig. "I can skip school if I need to," she called out. "And I can get shifts covered at work. Just let me know when."

She meant, let me know when you're going to Cabeswater. Ronan's stomach curdled. He slammed the passenger seat door, but he could still hear Gansey's response, telling Blue that of course, she'd be the first one to know when they decided on anything.

None of them spoke until 300 Fox Way was no longer visible in the rearview mirror. Then Gansey said, "Well, did Calla clarify anything for you, in the kitchen?"

"She made me a G&T with basil," Ronan said. "It tasted like shit."

Gansey hummed and drummed his fingers a few times on the steering wheel. When Ronan didn't elaborate, Gansey said, "Adam told us that the phrase she used, 'trouble's what you're in,' has been in his dreams a few times."

"Is that so?" Ronan twisted around to look at Adam, who was staring out the window. A muscle in Adam’s jaw ticked.

In response to Adam's silence, Gansey continued. "That was the only part of what Calla said that connected to anything about this. 'Go underground'? What did she mean by that? Like go underground to the caverns where we found Maura?"

Ronan faced forward again. For once in his life, he hated being in a car. He felt closed in, trapped in a box that was keeping him separate from the landscape racing by. He wanted to be around nature, and he thought fleetingly of the beech in Blue’s backyard. "Not exactly."

"More like, go underground to where we found Gwenllian." Adam finally spoke, his voice like gravel. Ronan gripped the side of his seat to keep from twisting around to look at him again. "Go underground to where we found the Third Sleeper, and Glendower. Go underground to a tomb."

Gansey stared at Adam in the rearview, his eyes widening. "But we woke up all the sleepers."

"Christ, Gansey," Ronan said. "Try to keep up--"

"I know what he meant." Gansey's voice was sharp, sharper than Ronan usually heard it directed at him. Ronan went quiet. "I really hate the idea of putting either of you into any kind of coffin, all right?"

"I'm not crazy about it either," Adam murmured. Ronan hit his forehead against the car window, not gently.

The Pig sped up around a curve. Gansey's fingers flexed on the steering wheel. "There must be another way."

"Doubt it," Ronan said, because they'd been pretty unlucky so far. "Sounds like we have to go to sleep under Cabeswater, or it won't stop giving what I have to Adam."

"What else could it possibly take?" Gansey demanded, and Ronan closed his eyes.

"There's always more to lose," he said. 

Adam didn't argue. Gansey's ragged breaths were loud in the silence. Then he muttered a curse, and said louder, "Okay. Just--okay."


	9. Chapter 9

Spring Break was right around the corner. Adam’s Aglionby classmates were all making big plans, considering it was the last Spring Break they’d have in high school; Adam heard excited chatter in the hallways about group trips to Aruba, Tijuana, Big Sur. No one asked him what his plans were--the classmates that he was cordial with had learned by now to be tactful about assuming that Adam could afford to do things like the rest of them.

Adam thought about being asked, though. Thought about telling Tad Carruthers that this spring he was planning on getting buried alive beneath a magic forest for as long as it took to reverse an evil spell. The look on Tad’s face would be lovely.

It made sense to do the burial over Spring Break. They didn’t know how long Adam and Ronan would have to stay asleep for, and while Ronan was fine with missing school days, Adam was not. And who knew what kind of shape they’d be in when the ritual was finished.

_Who knew if either of us will even be able to come back_ , was the thought constantly on the edge of Adam’s mind. He tried not to let it get from the edge to the center of his thoughts.

It had only been a week and a half since Adam had taken Ronan’s powers, but it was already trouble. Adam had mostly been dreaming up weird, beautiful things that had no practical use--a mermaid’s tail, a chrome statue of a cat that gleamed impossible colors, an impressively detailed map of medieval Asia--but there had been one morning when he’d woken up with an incredibly sharp knife that moved according to his thoughts. Not even his thoughts, his unconscious impulses, which was much worse. It whizzed through the air around him impossibly fast, and despite how it followed Adam’s mind it was capable of hurting him: it had sliced his shin open. The cut wasn’t deep but it was long and it stung. Adam had buried the knife in the churchyard.

No night terrors yet. Adam didn’t fear them as he maybe ought to (it had occurred to him that the lack of fear could have been why he wasn’t creating them). He was much more afraid of something else, a fear he hadn’t voiced to Ronan nor Gansey nor anyone. 

Adam dreamed of his father regularly. It could only be a matter of time before he woke up to familiar fists swinging.

So: Spring Break, underground Cabeswater tomb edition. Adam only had to last another six nights with Ronan’s ability. And he needed to use those six nights strategically--he had to dream up something that would put him and Ronan to sleep for a while without killing them. 

“How Romeo and Juliet of you,” Blue had said when Adam had described the potion to her. Adam had cringed. He’d thought of that literary reference independently and didn’t want to be reminded of it.

On the Sunday that started their last week of school before break, Adam woke up muzzy and disoriented and clutching something hard and cold. It was a vial that held an otherworldly liquid. The potion was purple, or gray, or blue, or black. As Adam peered at it, it swirled and hinted at thousands of things.

The flush of success coursed through Adam. It felt right in his hand, like something that had bent perfectly to his will. It would do the trick of providing magical sleep, no question about it.

Adam reached up, setting the vial carefully on the windowsill above his mattress before flopping down to lie on his back, stretching his arms before putting them behind his head. He didn’t have to go to work for five hours, and he’d finished all his homework yesterday. He could do anything. He could call up his friends or take a walk by himself or clean up his place. Each possibility seemed large and pleasing, the trouble that surrounded him faint in comparison.

He could jerk off. Adam thought about it, turning the idea over in his mind. It was rare for him to do that outside of the shower, and he almost always had to do it in a hurry. With everything that had been going on, Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched himself.

He thought of Ronan, fleetingly. Adam had been trying not to think about the night they’d last spent together, because thinking about it made him wonder if it would ever happen again, and the conclusion he always came to was that it seemed deeply unlikely. But now he thought of the way Ronan’s body had felt beneath his, at the point in the kissing when they’d both been physically, obviously turned on. The concept that Adam could turn anyone on, could turn _Ronan_ on, was an entirely new prospect, exciting in its novelty.

Adam closed his eyes. He remembered Ronan’s tongue in his mouth. He remembered the noise Ronan had made when Adam had accidentally scraped his nails down Ronan’s side, and how the noise had changed when Adam did it again deliberately. He remembered the way Ronan’s shaved head had felt against his fingertips. 

There was a loud thump followed by a yell. Adam opened his eyes to see Ronan half on his bed and half off it, flailing, before landing on his ass on the hard floor.

They stared at each other. Ronan was wearing only his boxers, just like when Adam had broken into his room in the middle of the night, but it was a different pair--these boxers were so worn they were practically threadbare, and there was a sizable hole over Ronan’s thigh.

Adam shrank under the covers. “What,” Ronan said, more carefully than he usually said anything. “The fuck?”

“Um,” Adam said, his mind terrifyingly blank. This was his fault, he knew it, or rather it was Cabeswater’s fault. Somehow he’d brought Ronan to him just by thinking about him, and that was horrifying on so many levels that his conscious mind refused to engage with it.

“So you can teleport other people now?” Ronan continued. “Were you--you didn’t do this on purpose, did you.”

Adam found his voice. “No! No I fucking didn’t, why the hell would I teleport you here when I just woke up? Were you even awake before just now?” Ronan slept in on weekends when he could manage it, Adam knew.

“Only barely,” Ronan said. Adam was braced for Ronan to get upset, to yell, but instead it was hard to tell what Ronan was feeling. He was just sitting on Adam’s floor, looking kind of befuddled.

“I’m so sorry,” Adam said, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. Thank god he hadn’t already been masturbating. Thank god he had pajama pants and a t-shirt on. “I can probably get you back to Monmouth, just give me a second--”

“No, don’t,” Ronan said. “I don’t want to end up splinched.”

Adam tried not to get hung up on the surreality of hearing Ronan reference Harry Potter. “Okay, well--I can drive you back, um. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

Adam pushed the covers off himself, getting ready to stand, and stopped when he felt Ronan’s fingers close around his wrist. 

Adam looked at him. Ronan didn’t seem befuddled anymore. There was an upward curve to his mouth and his gaze felt suddenly hot where it lingered on Adam’s skin.

“We might as well take advantage of the situation,” Ronan said. His voice was molten, with a note beneath it that Adam couldn’t pin down. He moved quickly, and then he was on the bed and in Adam’s space, straddling him.

Adam’s senses couldn’t decide what was the bigger deal: the feel of Ronan’s muscled thighs on either side of him, the wide expanse of Ronan’s naked chest, or Ronan’s breath on his face as he leaned in far too close. _He should have morning breath,_ Adam thought distractedly. _Why doesn’t he? Do I have morning breath? Did Cabeswater take care of that somehow?_

Ronan shifted forward, his hips snug against Adam’s own, and Adam’s cock was well on its way to an erection. Adam swallowed, leaning back and away on his elbows, but Ronan just followed him, his hand against Adam’s neck and his lips on Adam’s jaw. Ronan ground against him and Adam’s hips bucked, and it was nothing they hadn’t done before but this time it felt very, very different.

Adam’s brain was trying to play catch-up. Ronan’s hands were grazing his sides, his fingers skating over the skin of Adam’s rib cage. Ronan kissed his neck and Adam clutched at his bedsheets to keep himself from touching Ronan in return.

Adam wondered why he wasn’t letting himself touch Ronan back, then realized that Ronan wasn’t hard. Then Ronan spoke again, murmuring “How do you want to do this?” against Adam’s collarbone, and it was clearly supposed to be sexy but Adam could now recognize the other note in his voice: fear.

Adam let go of his sheets to push Ronan off him. Ronan went easily, leaning back and away and sprawling on the opposite end of the bed. For a second neither of them spoke; Adam watched the heavy rise and fall of Ronan’s chest.

Then Ronan said “Why--” and Adam spoke over him.

“I don’t want to have sex,” he said, words skidding over each other on his tongue. Ronan’s face shuttered, and Adam kept talking, feeling a keen sense of urgency. “Not right now. Not until--” Adam stopped, thought about what he’d been about to say, realized the truth of it and continued more confidently. “Not until we’ve fixed things and you have your old powers back.”

Ronan ducked his head, hiding the look on his face from Adam. The silence stretched out and Adam tried not to squirm. 

He didn’t know what Ronan had been afraid of just now, and it wasn’t his place to guess. But Adam was sure that being suddenly teleported half-naked to someone else’s bedroom had to be at least unsettling. Ronan had tried to cover it up by coming on to Adam, and Adam was glad he knew Ronan well enough to put a stop to that. He’d said ‘not until you have your powers back’ without thinking it through, but now that he was thinking about it--he really didn’t want to do anything serious with Ronan while Cabeswater still treated Adam like the Greywaren. There was a power differential there that made Adam nauseous.

Just now was the first time they’d touched each other since the night Ronan had stayed over. Adam wouldn’t have predicted that Ronan would ever want Adam to touch him again. But now--god, Ronan was now someone who had felt Adam’s erection through his pants on two separate occasions. This fact made Adam feel slightly strangled.

Finally Ronan shrugged and looked up. “That’s fine, I guess.” He seemed casual, but Adam thought that he maybe looked a little relieved beneath that. 

“Sorry,” Adam muttered. He’d been apologizing to Ronan a lot lately, too much, and it annoyed him. That was never how they’d worked before, but then, Adam hadn’t been the Greywaren before. 

Adam was braced for Ronan to ask what difference the power swap made to their potential sex life, but the question never came. Instead Ronan sighed, and the sheets rustled as he crossed his legs, looking at Adam with his head cocked to one side.

“Were you thinking about me before I showed up?” Ronan asked. He didn’t seem embarrassed, but Adam was embarrassed enough for the both of them. “Is that why I ended up here?”

It was not a question Adam wanted to answer, but he supposed Ronan had a right to know. He fixed his line of sight on a dark spot on the wall over Ronan’s left shoulder. “Yes.”

Adam expected Ronan to smirk at that, but he didn’t, just nodded. “What were you thinking about, exactly?”

Adam didn’t look away from his spot on the wall. “I was remembering when we kissed,” he said, and at least his voice remained steady. This was humiliating, but at least Ronan didn’t seem like he was about to start making fun of him.

“Oh,” was all Ronan said. Then he said, “Look at me,” and Adam looked further away. “Adam, come on, look at me.”

With deep reluctance, Adam met Ronan’s eyes. “Have you thought about us having sex?” Ronan asked, and it didn’t seem like he was trying to start anything sexual, this time. He just sounded curious, and serious.

If Ronan wasn’t going to be childish about this, then Adam couldn’t either. He nodded, trying not to give away how fast his heart was beating. “Yeah, I have. Have you?”

“Yeah.” Now Ronan smirked, but just slightly, and Adam still didn’t feel mocked. “More than once. Almost every night since we hooked up.”

It was weird to hear Ronan say the phrase ‘hooked up,’ and even weirder to know that the phrase was being said about Adam. “Really?” Adam said, intent on knowing more about this Ronan who claimed they’d ‘hooked up,’ this Ronan who’d thought of Adam every night since.

But Ronan didn’t elaborate. “Yep,” he said. “What have you thought about? Like, specifics.”

Adam broke and looked away, looked down at his hands twisting in his lap. “I don’t know, what have _you_ thought about, specifically?”

“I asked first. And I’m the one you dragged here with magic. I’m your guest and I say that you go first.”

Now Ronan was teasing him, but only a little. Adam looked up to glare at him. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he argued, but Ronan just lifted an eyebrow, clearly expecting an answer. 

Adam picked at a cuticle. “I don’t know if I’ve thought about specifics,” he said, more-or-less honestly. When he’d thought about Ronan and sex, he usually just conjured up hazy images of bare thighs, shaved head and tattooed shoulders. Usually. “Mostly it’s just--the possibility, I don’t know. The idea that we could do it someday, if we both wanted to.”

“I’m asking about your fantasies, man,” Ronan said. “Come on. I can show you some porn if you’re stumped for ideas.”

“Shut up,” Adam said on reflex. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to another teenaged boy about sex stuff, right? But Adam had never had one of these conversations before, not even with Gansey. He didn’t know if he could even bring himself to name sex acts out loud. But this seemed important to Ronan, so Adam tried. “I’ve thought about, um, blowjobs,” he said, hating the warmth that flooded his cheeks. 

Ronan’s smile was soft rather than sharp, and it enabled Adam to keep on talking. “I’ve thought about you going down on me, specifically. The reverse also. I’ve thought about your mouth and--yeah.”

“Cool,” Ronan said, and Adam wanted to laugh at the weirdness of this and also how it didn’t feel nearly as weird as it should. “I’ve thought about blowing you, too. You ever thought about us actually fucking?”

The word ‘fucking’ shot through Adam like a bullet. He met Ronan’s eyes and it was like staring down a forest fire. He looked away immediately. “No,” he said, unable to stop the strained quaver in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Ronan said, and at least now he sounded rough, a little shaken. At least he was uncomfortable too. “I haven’t thought about it either.” He paused. “Until now.”

The silence was back again, thick and charged this time. Adam was definitely thinking about it now. He was thinking about Ronan’s ass and what it might be like to touch him there. He was thinking about Ronan on his knees. He was thinking about what things Ronan might be thinking about.

Eventually Ronan cleared his throat, a decidedly un-Lynch-like gesture that brought Adam back to the present. “Can you drive me back to Monmouth? Don’t wanna worry Gansey.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Adam stood up, moving for his shoes by the door. “Um, do you want a shirt for the ride? Or pants? Or shoes, we might be the same size.”

Ronan laughed and got to his feet. “Nah, I’m good.” 

Adam frowned. It was cold outside, but he wasn’t going to insist on offering Ronan clothes. He and Ronan weren’t responsible for each other, not that way. 

When they went outside, Adam took one look at Ronan and it was obvious that the cold had made Ronan’s nipples hard. Adam averted his eyes and tried not to look directly at Ronan or his stupid chest for the rest of the drive. At least no one was saying anything else about fucking, to Adam’s intense relief. 

When Adam pulled up to the Monmouth parking lot and cut the engine, Ronan reached for the door handle then stopped, glancing back at Adam. 

“Next Saturday, right?” he asked. “That’s when we go underground.”

Adam fixed his eyes in front of him. “Yeah. I dreamed up the sleep stuff this morning.”

“Good,” Ronan said, still not moving. Adam had just started to wonder why he wasn’t getting out of the car when Ronan leaned forward, quick as a striking snake, and pressed a kiss to Adam’s cheek.

Adam started, and Ronan was out of his personal space as soon as he’d arrived. Adam turned to him to say something, or do something--he should kiss Ronan back, right, that was how this worked--but Ronan was already shoving himself out of the car. For a second Ronan just stood outside next to the Hondayota, and Adam stared at his visible skin and the black line of Ronan’s boxers. 

Then Ronan walked quickly to the stairs that led up to Monmouth, half-running up the steps. He didn’t stop at the doorway to look back or wave at Adam or anything, just disappeared inside. 

There was no one around, so Adam let himself reach up, touching the spot on his cheek that Ronan had kissed. A grin spread across his face, and he drove home slowly, taking side roads and tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the radio.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fucked up thing happens between Ronan and a dream-Niall. It doesn't get more graphic or upsetting than canon. If you want a specific warning, drop me a line at zeegoesthere on tumblr.
> 
> Major thanks to iwillbeyourhands on tumblr/perculious on ao3 for helping me whip this chapter into shape.

Ronan hated the idea of going to sleep underground so violently that on most of the mornings before the scheduled burial, he woke up with a sore jaw. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, but he hadn’t experienced it in years. He’d briefly gone through a phase of grinding his teeth in his sleep, back in 7th grade when he was still getting used to Declan as his foe rather than his ally. The teeth-grinding had been bad enough that there’d been some worry about Ronan doing long-term damage to his teeth. 

His father had not been pleased by Ronan exhibiting such an ordinary sign of stress. “Just wait, you’ll get more interesting injuries from sleep someday,” he’d scoffed. Ronan had to wear a special mouth guard to bed for about a month, until the habit passed. Declan hadn’t even bothered to make fun of him for it, probably because it would have been too easy, an obvious target. 

Ronan supposed it made sense for the teeth-grinding to return. His sleep no longer had the capacity to injure him in more interesting ways.

Everything was mostly planned. Gansey and Blue (and Noah, if he was able to) would go underground with Ronan and Adam, wherever they found a passage. Adam seemed confident that Cabeswater would give them a tunnel when he asked for one. He also thought that Cabeswater would provide the coffins and a tomb with the appropriate level of gravitas. 

“Should we try to bury you with, I don’t know, trinkets representing your life?” Blue wondered during one of the planning sessions, all five of them gathered around Gansey’s desk on Wednesday afternoon.

“That’s the Egyptians,” Noah said. “We’re not mummifying them.”

“No, the Welsh buried people with grave goods, too,” Gansey said. Blue stuck her tongue out at Noah. “Especially their royalty, which Ronan and Adam probably are by Cabeswater’s standards. Do either of you have things that you’d like to carry with you to the afterlife?” Gansey said, turning to Adam and Ronan. Then he realized what he’d said and backtracked hastily. “Not that you’re going to die! Just that we’re trying to achieve a certain verisimilitude here.”

Adam and Ronan looked at each other. Ronan’s mind was pulling a blank. The only thing he could think of was Chainsaw, and there was no way in hell he’d actually take her with him.

“Um,” Adam said and glanced off to the side, his teeth catching his bottom lip. The tips of his ears were red. “Maybe the Shitbox Sing-Along.” 

It took Ronan a moment to realize what Adam was talking about, but then he remembered Adam telling him about the mixtape. Abruptly Ronan turned away too, unable to look at Adam and his red ears. He didn’t know what to do with his body and found himself knocking his knuckles against the wooden desk, making some sort of noise to distract everyone from Adam’s words, his small-huge confession that Ronan couldn’t have predicted. Ronan wished that Gansey and Noah and Blue were not in the room.

But no one reacted to Adam’s words or teased him. Gansey just nodded. “Well, you have a few days to think about it. Anyway, the rest of us fully intend to stand watch while you sleep. We’ll take sleeping bags and enough food for a few days. Adam, do you think it would interrupt things if we stayed in the room with you?”

Adam looked skeptical. “It might be better for you to wait outside.”

A camping trip to watch over two boys willingly entering into a hopefully-short coma. Ronan couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh or not. It was all so stupid and no less scary for how stupid it was.

Later, when Adam and Ronan were alone in Ronan’s room, Adam expressed worry about having to call out of work for the whole week. None of his bosses had given him any trouble over it, but missing a week’s worth of wages was a problem. When Ronan heard this, he burst out laughing. 

Adam turned on him, his whole body rigid and his eyes flashing with anger and surprised hurt. “What’s so funny?”

Ronan stopped laughing to shake his head at Adam. “Oh my god, dumbass. Just dream up what you need to make your rent. Dream up all the cash you want.”

Adam’s jaw dropped so fast it was comical. Ronan realized, incredulous, that this somehow had not occurred to Adam yet. That seemed so unlikely that Ronan’s jaw dropped a little, too.

“Oh come on, Parrish,” he said, trying to make this realization more casual for Adam’s sake. “I know it’s hard but try to have some imagination. You only have a few more days to take joyrides in my shit. Fucking take advantage.”

Adam turned away from Ronan and bent over, putting his head in his hands. Ronan shut his mouth on more verbal attempts to ease the tension. Adam’s fingers tangled and tightened in his own hair, and Ronan felt a small stab of guilt: he hadn’t meant to stun Adam so. 

He wanted to ask why Adam, so brutally intelligent and quick, was only just this moment feeling the impact of the world at his fingertips. He wanted to ask but he said nothing, instead watching Adam pull at his hair and hunch over himself until he was ready to sit up again. 

When he sat up, he said, “When we try to get your powers back, we should try for your memories as well. This will probably be our best opportunity to do that.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Of course Ronan was going to ask Cabeswater for his whole self back, not just the parts that currently belonged to Adam. If it didn’t work the failure would be greater, but of course he had to try.

Adam regarded him. Ronan tried not to fidget beneath Adam’s regard, so piercing and so serious. Adam took Ronan so seriously. “We’ll be dreaming together. That’s what I created the potion to do. Whatever visions Cabeswater gives us, we’ll be together.”

Ronan could only nod. He was afraid. He didn’t know whether he feared more for himself or for Adam. He didn’t want to do this, but he would, they would. Together.

***

In the end, Ronan decided upon taking a tie that his mother had bought him for his middle school graduation (an event she’d been absurdly solemn about), as well his aged copy of _Jumanji_ , a childhood book that he’d read aloud to Matthew probably hundreds of times. These were random choices, but Ronan’s life was impossibly cluttered with objects, most of which held no real significance and came with no stories--dream stories did not count, to him. 

Adam took the mixtape Ronan couldn’t remember making for him and a small set of old wrenches, the tools he said he’d used when teaching himself about cars. It made Ronan think about watching Adam work on an engine, if they survived this. That thought, or rather his reaction to it, embarrassed him deeply, so fuck those wrenches.

Cabeswater gave them mild weather for the expedition. Adam took the lead with Ronan behind him, then Gansey and Blue and Noah taking up the rear. All but Noah carried backpacks, although Ronan and Adam naturally carried less than Blue and Gansey. Adam had the vial of Romeo and Juliet potion in his pocket. Ronan watched the tanned nape of Adam’s neck as they walked deeper into the forest.

Adam gestured for everyone to stop. They didn’t seem to be in any particular place, these trees looking exactly like all the trees they’d walked by. But Adam walked up to one of the trees and put his hand on the bark, closing his eyes. Ronan and Blue and Gansey and Noah watched him. 

Adam opened his eyes, let his hand fall to his side. “We’re close. Over here.”

He led them to a rock outcropping. Boulders seemed to be blocking some sort of entrance. Ronan swore, because they looked impossibly heavy, but Adam walked up to the first one and lifted it easily, setting it to the side.

All of them stared. Adam shrugged, self-conscious. “Magic,” he said by way of explanation. 

“Huh,” Gansey said. “Should we help?”

But Adam was already taking care of the remaining boulders, clearing the space quickly. The cave entrance wasn’t big, but it was daunting. Light didn’t seem to penetrate it very far.

“Deja vu,” Blue said. Everyone but Ronan seemed to share this sentiment. Ronan kicked at the dirt before following Adam into the cave.

He had the ghost light that Blue had given him, and Adam and Gansey and Blue each carried flashlights. It beat back the dark, but didn’t make things seem any less creepy. It wasn’t long before the path they were taking started sloping downward, and Ronan thought about the center of the Earth. The slope turned steeper and steeper, and they had to step cautiously to avoid twisted ankles. Occasionally the silence would be broken by the sound of pebbles skidding, and someone taking a shuddery breath. 

Ronan didn’t know how far down they were when he heard Noah say, “Oh. Sorry.” Ronan turned to look and saw Noah fading even as Blue reached out to try and keep him.

The loss of Noah seemed foreboding to Ronan, but the others took it in stride. They continued, further and further underground, until finally the path seemed to level.

“There,” Adam said, pointing his flashlight forward. They could see a second tunnel branching off to the right, and when they followed it they found a door at the end.

The door opened when Adam pushed. The crypt was dimly lit by torches set into roughly hewn sconces in the wall. Adam clicked off his flashlight and the others followed suit; Ronan didn’t know how to turn the ghost light off, so he covered the glowy bit with his palm.

There were two open coffins, side by side. They drew the eye. At least, Ronan thought, they were plenty large. Roomy. You didn’t want to be cramped when burying yourself alive.

“All right,” Gansey said at Ronan’s side. “I suppose it’s now or never.” His tone was bracing, his rallying-the-troops voice, but when Ronan glanced his way Gansey was ghostly pale, ill and powerless here.

Adam was not powerless. Adam was stepping forward, peering into the coffin closest to him. Ronan stepped forward to look at the other one, even though it made his guts twist. There wasn’t much to see. It was just another place to lie down.

The thought of his father’s coffin came to Ronan’s mind, unbidden. Gravediggers lowering his father’s body into the ground and covering it in dirt. He had to grip the edge of the coffin to keep himself from turning around and sprinting back to the surface.

“Is there anything we need to do? Rituals, chanting, that sort of thing?” Blue asked. Ronan tried desperately to focus on her words over the sound of blood roaring in his ears. Adam was answering her, saying that no, he didn’t think so. Adam was climbing into his own coffin. Adam was waiting for Ronan to do the same.

_You’ve fought worse_ , Ronan told himself. _This box doesn’t have claws._ But there was no telling what might be waiting for them once they closed their eyes and the coffin lids slid shut. Claws could very well be in Ronan’s immediate future. Claws and worse.

“Ronan?” Adam said. Ronan registered a hand on each of his elbows. Gansey and Blue were on either side and touching him, gentle about it, understanding. 

The touches helped Ronan break his gaze away from the open coffin. He looked at the opposite wall instead, blinking hard. “I’m fine,” he said, though no one had asked in words. Blue and Gansey let go of him and stepped back, and Ronan heaved himself into the box.

Ronan stared up at the ceiling stalactites as Blue and Gansey attended to the grave goods. Gansey was taking each wrench out of Adam’s toolbox and setting them along the line of Adam’s body, while Blue looped Ronan’s tie loosely over his neck. She tucked _Jumanji_ in at his feet. After she was done she gave his foot a squeeze, hard enough that Ronan could feel it through the toes of his hiking boot. 

“We’ll wait until the two of you are asleep before closing the lids,” Gansey said, assuring them of this even though they’d discussed it all beforehand. “And we’ll be close enough to hear you when you wake up, we’ll come right away.”

Ronan sat up enough to look over at Adam. Adam had the Shakespearean vial in his hand, unstoppered. He met Ronan’s gaze, his eyes small pinpricks in the dim room. Neither of them looked away as Adam tipped his head back and drank.

Adam reached over to hand the vial to Ronan. It was small and cold in his hand, exactly half the liquid left. Ronan felt weird doing this exchange in front of Blue and Gansey, even though it had nothing to do with sex. But they had to be here to ensure that Adam and Ronan were properly buried, so Ronan gave them a nod before knocking back the rest of the potion.

It tasted like whiskey to Ronan. Somehow he knew that this was subjective, part of the things’ magic, and his last thought as he laid down and slipped away was to wonder what it had tasted like to Adam.

***

When the dream began, Ronan was alone and cold and it was terrifying. He whirled around in a panic, stuck in the middle of some kind of blizzard, and just as he’d opened his mouth to yell Adam’s name until he lost his voice, a hand gripped his wrist.

Here was Adam, right by Ronan’s side as if he’d been there the whole time. Ronan wanted to sob with relief. “Hi,” Adam said.

“Jesus shitting christ,” Ronan said. “Where are we, Mt. Everest?”

“Possibly,” Adam said. They were standing on icy rock, and when Ronan looked out in front of them he could see the ground fall away. Cabeswater had dumped them on a cliff in the midst of snowy winds that seemed almost powerful enough to send them over the edge.

Ronan’s teeth chattered and he felt snow searing his ears, sticking to his eyelashes. He couldn’t remember ever being this cold in his life, and he tugged Adam closer to him instinctively. Adam came and they huddled together, shocked and shivering. Ronan felt Adam’s hand cover the back of his naked head, trying to rub warmth into Ronan’s skin.

“Now what?” Ronan said. He couldn’t figure out what a blizzard had to do with getting his powers and memories back, but maybe Adam could. 

“No clue,” Adam said, still rubbing Ronan’s head. Ronan shivered uncontrollably. He knew they were dreaming but this kind of cold felt like it could kill him.

But he thought about the logic of his dreams, back when his dreams had been useful to him. “We can go somewhere else,” he said, muffled into Adam’s jacket collar. “If we concentrate--we have to concentrate--”

“Somewhere warm,” Adam said, with feeling. The storm howled and then the ground slid away for just a second before coming back, and now Ronan could hear the roar of a fire instead.

He and Adam let go of each other. Tall flames surrounded them. They were in the middle of a forest fire, and for just a second the blistering warmth felt good after such cold. Then it became unbearable. Ronan couldn’t see anything but fire or Adam’s face no matter where he looked.

“Not an improvement,” Ronan yelled, and Adam cursed in response. Now they were back-to-back, as if a forest fire was something they could fight off. Smoke filled Ronan’s lungs and he tried to cover his mouth with his jacket, coughing until his eyes watered.

Ronan didn’t want to die in fire. He didn’t want to die at all, but this was especially visceral. He tried to imagine a water hose in his hand, and he thought he could almost feel the shape of something there before his surroundings changed again.

The fire was gone, and the air around them now felt neither too hot nor too cold. But it was windy, with gray turbulent skies, like this weather wouldn’t last.

Ronan looked around him. They were standing on some kind of grassy hill, about halfway up the slope. When Ronan looked down and out, he saw trees and grass and ancient-looking stone buildings with more green hills in the distance. When he looked up the hill, where Adam was looking, he could see a dusty dirt trail leading up to a stone tower.

The tower wasn’t very high. There was an archway at its center, a doorway you could see sky through. It did not look modern.

“I recognize this place,” Adam said. Ronan turned to him. Adam was staring intently at the tower, wind whipping his sandy hair about his face. “Gansey showed me photos. I think we’re in England.”

Ronan glanced back at the tower, although each time he looked at it he felt more uneasy. “Not Wales?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe actually Wales? I’m shaky on the geography.” Adam took in a breath that straightened his shoulders, and Ronan thought that the look on his face was very Gansey: full of purpose and something that could be royalty. “The geography’s unimportant. I remember why Gansey was researching this place.”

“So spit it out then,” Ronan said, because he couldn’t let himself start treating Adam like royalty; he might never stop.

Adam met his eyes. “According to Welsh mythology, this is the doorway to the afterlife.”

The whistle of wind grew louder. Ronan and Adam looked at each other. Ronan felt faintly ridiculous, and also like he might throw up.

“Are you telling me we have to go to Welsh Hades?” Ronan said when he got sick of the silence. “I thought the whole point of this was that we _weren’t_ dying.” 

“I don’t know.” Adam frowned, looking back up at the tower. “Maybe it’s symbolic?”

“Can we symbolically get out of hell once we’ve symbolically walked in?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said again, worry lines on his face. “It seems unlikely that Cabeswater would bring us here if we weren’t supposed to go in.”

Ronan bit back further sarcastic remarks. He looked up at the tower again. He was struck by how much it looked like an illustration, like something that belonged on one of the psychics’ tarot cards. It didn’t seem real. Of course, it wasn’t real: they were asleep, or they were dead. Either way their physical selves were definitely not in England, or Wales, or wherever the fuck this thing actually was.

“It would be a risk,” Adam said. “Going through that arch up there. It might not even work. It might take us anywhere.”

“But you think it will,” Ronan said.

“I think it’s what we came here to do,” Adam said.

“Then I trust you.”

Adam reached out and caught Ronan’s fingers, squeezing hard before letting go. A brief touch, and all that Ronan needed.

They approached the tower and stopped in front of the archway. They could see through it quite plainly, and it seemed like it just lead to more grass. Maybe it did.

They didn’t speak before walking through. The second they stepped under it, the archway and the tower and the grass and the wind all fell away. They were in a forest again, much like Cabeswater, except the green of all the leaves seemed brighter and Ronan could hear music and there were smallish naked people dancing everywhere.

One of the people, a girl who was even shorter than Blue, stopped in front of them. She seemed happy to see them. She said something in a language that was definitely not Latin, and laughed before looking at Adam, seeming to expect an answer.

“Um,” said Adam desperately. His eyes were darting around like there was nowhere safe to look, which was probably true if you cared about breasts.

“The lady asked you a question,” Ronan said, because he was not above saying it. Adam glared at him, his cheeks a red bright enough to match the lively golds and greens of their surroundings.

The girl shrugged. Turning to Ronan, a tray appeared in her outstretched hand. She offered him meat and fruit and a goblet of wine, and spoke again. This time the language barrier wasn’t a problem, as it was a clear invitation to dinner.

“Don’t eat any or drink anything here,” Adam said at once. Ronan rolled his eyes at him. 

“No shit,” he said, but his stomach cramped, alerting him to a ferocious hunger that he hadn’t felt just moments before. The food looked delicious, and his mouth watered.

“No thanks,” he said to the naked girl, taking a step back. 

The girl waved a hand and the tray disappeared. The music came to an abrupt halt, and no one was dancing anymore. 

“Your loss,” she said in Latin. Every hair on Ronan’s body stood on end. He felt Adam grab his arm, and then that touch was gone and so was everything else. 

Ronan blinked hard and shook his head, disoriented by the darkness that suddenly surrounded him. He turned and Adam wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere. Everything was black, and Ronan thought of Chainsaw’s feathers, thought of his night terrors.

Adam had said they’d be together when they went to sleep. This was all wrong. Ronan wanted to call for Adam, but he kept his mouth shut. Something told him that he shouldn’t be loud here, should avoid calling attention to himself.

The blackness parted and now Ronan could see the shape of a man walking toward him. His surroundings started to shift, coalescing into a nighttime scene that Ronan couldn’t immediately parse because it was foreign, unrecognizable. 

As the stranger came closer, Ronan realized they were on a dusty dirt road. Behind the man was a trailer and a car up on bricks. There were other trailers, too, when Ronan looked around him. The moon was a bright sliver overhead.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” said the stranger, drawing Ronan’s attention back. He was a big man, taller than Ronan, and before Ronan could formulate some sort of response, a fist connected with his right eye.

Only years of boxing lessons kept Ronan from sprawling completely to the ground. Instead he staggered, stumbling to get away from his assailant. Pain blazed through him. Ronan had been hit in the face before, but this felt different, felt more explosively real. Dream pain shouldn’t hurt like this, but it was so bad that it drove all other thoughts from Ronan’s mind.

The man was still on him. While Ronan reeled, the man grabbed him and drove his knee into Ronan’s gut. This time Ronan went down, the ground swooping up at him all at once. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even curl into himself properly. All he could do was choke and hurt and stare up in shocked horror.

“Who are you?” said a voice that sounded much too scared to be Ronan’s. The man’s answering expression was the most mocking thing Ronan had ever seen. _Bully,_ Ronan thought. 

“You don’t remember?” he said. It was a jeer, a taunt--he knew that Ronan couldn’t remember. Ronan struggled for comprehension, and then it came: he put together the trailer park setting and the man’s eyes and the familiar cheekbones. This man looked nothing like Adam, except for the ways in which he did.

Robert Parrish kicked at his face, which Ronan did his best to cover. Parrish’s boot connected hard with Ronan’s wrist, which was not as bad as a kick to the teeth would have been but still hurt. Ronan scrambled back and received a kick to the ribs, twice. He fought back panic, fought back the urge to fold up and whimper and wait for it to end. This was a dream so it might never end, Parrish might continue until Ronan was little more than bloody pulp. 

Ronan didn’t want to take this beating. He’d fought this man before, outside of a dream. That had been a real thing that had happened in the real world, and Ronan’s body had been through this before even if he had no memory of it. Surely he hadn’t lost this spectacularly the first time. Surely Adam wouldn’t look at Ronan the way he sometimes did if Ronan had let Parrish wipe the floor with him. 

Ronan had chosen this, the first time. He’d willfully thrown himself into a fight with this giant man for Adam’s sake. He could choose again, choose to fight back, choose to call on that image of himself taking the initiative and landing the first blow. Ronan was not fifteen anymore, and his body was not as weak or vulnerable as his mind often felt.

The next time Parrish’s swinging boot came for his face Ronan reached out, hurling himself at Parrish’s legs and taking him down. They were a pile of tangled limbs and then Ronan rolled free and got to his feet. Now it was his turn to kick, landing a blow square in the middle of Parrish’s back. Ronan was afraid to give him a chance to get up so he kept kicking, aiming scattered blows that only sometimes landed. 

Parrish grabbed for him, trying to yank him to the ground like Ronan had done to him, and Ronan stumbled back to avoid it. This gave Parrish a chance to stand, and then they were circling. Ronan called on his adrenaline and tried to ignore the pain, still more acute than any he’d previously experienced during any fight. 

Something metal took shape in Ronan’s right hand, and he looked down to see the gun that he’d dreamed up weeks ago. The feel of it was like an electric shock. 

“Hoc est a test?” Ronan yelled out, though there were no trees visible to hear. _Is this a test?_

If it was a test, it was bullshit. Ronan wasn’t about to shoot anyone’s father, not even in a dream. Maybe especially not in a dream.

Parrish barrelled towards him like he didn’t care that Ronan was holding a gun. Ronan swerved and ducked, and when Parrish twisted to face him Ronan pistol-whipped his temple.

Parrish went down. As he hit the ground he changed, and now it was Niall Lynch bleeding where Ronan had hit him.

Ronan cried out, a child, and went to his knees. “Dad! Dad, fuck, it’s me, I’m sorry, Dad--”

Niall coughed and spat blood, trying to sit up. Ronan’s hands fluttered to Niall’s arms, pulling him in--or rather pulling Ronan to him; Niall was as immoveable as always. Ronan fisted both hands in his father’s shirt and pressed his nose into Niall’s shoulder. Sobs wracked his whole body. A distant part of him realized that he was hysterical, but it hardly mattered.

Niall laughed, a reaction to being pistol-whipped that seemed so true to himself that Ronan could only believe that this was really him, truly his father letting Ronan cry against him.

“I hit you,” Ronan said, his voice thickened by tears. All he could think of was his father’s obliterated skull, of someone else hitting Niall until he cracked open. But that didn’t matter, it had never happened, Niall was here and Ronan would never let him leave.

“You did,” Niall said, his voice so calm it was almost amused. His hand came up to the back of Ronan’s head, echoing the way Adam had touched his head during the blizzard. But Niall wasn’t rubbing over his buzzed hair to keep him warm. His hand slid down to Ronan’s neck, and Ronan dimly registered pressure. Niall’s hands had always been huge and now he was gripping Ronan’s neck hard, his fingers lengthening unnaturally until they wrapped around Ronan’s entire throat. 

Ronan’s air flow constricted. He clung to his father harder, cried harder. He was staying right here, even as his thoughts began to cloud from lack of oxygen. His father was alive--

Someone shouted, an animal sound. Then Ronan’s father was being ripped away from him. Ronan choked and tried to breathe, blindly reaching for Niall and finding only empty space. He turned to see Niall sprawled a few feet away, and as Ronan watched thick, thorny vines erupted from the ground and twisted over Niall’s body, immobilizing him. The thorns broke his skin and he bled freely.

Ronan bellowed and moved to free him, but Adam was there, strong arms wrapping around Ronan’s chest and dragging him away. Ronan twisted and kicked and snarled, but Adam was undeterred.

“Ronan,” Adam said, grunting with effort as he maneuvered them both to standing. “He was choking you--”

“Fuck you,” Ronan spat. “That’s my dad--”

“I know,” Adam said, his voice infuriatingly calm. Finally he let Ronan go, but stood between Ronan and Niall, blocking Ronan’s way. 

“That’s my _dad!_ ” Ronan wanted to to knock Adam out of the way, but even with Adam in the way of Ronan and a living, breathing Niall, he couldn’t raise a hand to him. His muscles locked up. All Ronan could do was rage with his voice, and he did, yelling the same sentence over and over.

“Ronan!” Adam grabbed the front of Ronan’s shirt and shook until Ronan’s teeth rattled. “I know that’s your dad. Your dad was _hurting you._ ” 

Ronan had never heard Adam’s voice so savage or seen his eyes so fierce. Somehow it penetrated Ronan’s fury, made him stop, made him breathe. Breathing was possible now, when it had been impossible in his dad’s arms. Ronan owed his oxygen to Adam.

“He would have killed you,” Adam said. “I couldn’t let him kill you. Not your dad.”

Ronan stared at him and remembered the cruelty of Robert Parrish’s face. Adam was furious but he wasn’t cruel. It hadn’t been cruelty that had dragged Ronan’s father off of him, saving Ronan’s life.

There was space in Ronan’s vision now to observe, and what he saw was striking. Adam wore a crown of thorns, but they didn’t seem to be pricking him, there was no blood on his forehead. Bright green vines wound around his neck, but he didn’t seem to be choking. A dark blue flower bloomed over the hollow of his throat. Something about his skin gave the impression of being golden, bursting with life and light. 

Ronan could hardly bear to look at him. Ronan couldn’t look away. Adam was radiating power in a way that Ronan had never seen before. His father had been powerful, but not like this. 

His real father, not the nightmare that had tried to kill him. It seemed obvious to Ronan now that he never should have trusted the dream, and the part of him that wasn’t currently awestruck took a moment to hope that Adam didn’t think he was stupid for believing an illusion. 

Ronan wondered what kind of tests Adam had passed through, to come to him now like this. 

“Magician,” Ronan said, his voice a strangled croak. Adam frowned and touched his fingers to Ronan’s neck, where that thing pretending to be Niall had choked him. 

Adam’s eyes widened, and when he drew back his hand Ronan could see why: a stream of golden light flowed between Adam’s fingers and the point on Ronan’s body that he’d touched. Ronan reached up to touch the same point and the light jumped to his hand. When Adam stepped back, Ronan could see it clearly, the connection between their hands, the power and magic and life that was flowing from Ronan to Adam.

It definitely only flowed in one direction--Ronan knew that immediately. He could almost feel it, like a needle drawing blood from his veins. Adam was well on his way to draining Ronan utterly, to leaving his spirit a husk.

“This is it,” Adam said, and as he spoke the landscape around them shifted again. Now they were back in the Welsh forest, the Welsh realm of the dead, and between the trees Ronan could catch flashes of those small naked people, moving almost too fast to be seen. “This is where it happens. We have to make this right, we have to do it _now._ ”

“How? Tell me what to do,” Ronan said. There was something morbidly welcome about feeling himself drain away into Adam. He knew how easy it would be to just let it happen. Ronan thought about dream logic and mentally dug in his heels.

“Yeah, like that,” Adam said, as if he’d felt what Ronan had tried to do. “Calla said build a dam, right? Think about that, concentrate on building it in your head.”

What did you need to build a dam? You needed concrete, great big blocks of it. A dam started at the river bottom and climbed up towards the sky, spanning a whole canyon. Ronan imagined it in as much vivid detail as he possibly could, and when he looked at the thread of golden light he saw it shifting, uncertain.

“Good,” Adam said. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to--” he didn’t finish the thought, just gripped his own wrist, the one the light connected to. Now in addition to power, Adam radiated a will that seemed great enough to take down the forest around them.

Cabeswater had hurt Ronan while elevating Adam. This didn’t bother Ronan; his dreams had always been out to get him, all those interesting injuries, so it made sense that he’d have to fight his way back to being the Graewaren. His dreams were tests of endurance so often. 

He didn’t want Cabeswater to try and figure out what Adam could endure. Watching the way Adam concentrated now on the line of light, he suspected that Adam’s tests had been about proving his responsibility, his ability to wield the power that had flooded him, and his determination to give some of that power away.

“Ronan,” Adam called out, and Ronan stared down at his hand, at his one chance at getting his life back.

Concrete. Stop the flow. Ronan’s will could match Adam’s. His hands turned to fists and he stared at the golden light like he could stare it down, like it could be intimidated. Concrete. Concrete.

“Good!” Adam said again. Veins stood out in his forearms and he was breathing hard, red in the face. “I think we’ve stopped it. Now we have to make it go the other way, make it flow from me to you.”

This made Ronan hesitate. He didn’t like the idea of this supernatural IV flowing in either direction, from Ronan to Adam or Adam to him. 

“You have to,” Adam said like he could read Ronan’s thoughts. “ _You’re_ the Greywaren, not me.”

He was the Greywaren. He’d been the Greywaren his whole life, long before he’d learned that term a couple months ago. Ronan focused on this point, insisted upon it. 

“You told me once that to take something out of a dream, you have to really want it,” Adam said, his voice rising. There was not really any noise that had to be spoken over, except for how suddenly there was, the air rising in volume, the buzz of a swarm nearby. Ronan could feel eyes on him from the people in the trees. “I have what’s yours. You have to want it back. You have to want it and you have to take it from me.”

“I don’t--” Ronan didn’t know how that sentence would have ended, didn’t know how to talk at all. The buzzing grew louder, closer. He thought of Gansey, he thought of wanting an epipen and waking up holding one.

But this was different. Adam wasn’t a dream. He didn’t know how to take from Adam.

“I’ll be fine,” Adam shouted. “Don’t worry about me. _You’re the Greywaren._ Get pissed at me if it helps. Take it! Fucking take it, you asshole!”

Ronan gripped his wrist, mirroring the way Adam had gripped his. He could get pissed off. He could. He remembered Adam dragging him away from his father and pulled on that rage, willing it to the surface of his heart. “Fuck you,” he snarled, yelling loud enough to be heard over the wasps that had now arrived. They obscured his view of Adam but Ronan could still see their connection, that golden thread. He imagined yanking on it, throwing his whole weight into pulling from Adam as hard as he possibly could. 

Ronan felt a burst of energy rush into him. Adam dropped to the forest floor like his strings had been cut, and then the wasps blipped out of existence. Light still flowed between them, out of Adam and into Ronan.

Ronan was once again the Greywaren. The certainty of this filled him. 

Beside him, Orphan Girl spoke, here to communicate with him because Adam was no longer conscious.

“You don’t remember yet,” she said. “But you could. That’s here, too. It’s all here. You can take it.”

Ronan looked down at the top of her head. He was the Greywaren again, but he could keep reaching and take more, take his memories back. Adam’s energy offered more than enough power to allow Ronan to dream his old brain back to life. Ronan could use it to be whole again. He could remember. 

“If I use it to get my memories back, what would that do to him?” 

Orphan Girl looked up at him, unsmiling. She didn’t bother to answer him. It would have been unnecessary; Ronan already knew. 

He could read this line of light the way Adam had seemed to before, could see how it worked and how it could be manipulated. If he pulled from Adam until he had enough power to rebuild his memories, he’d get Adam’s magic, too. Adam’s connection to Cabeswater would be given to Ronan, and Ronan could use it or get rid of it easily enough. Ronan would have his life back, but Adam would no longer be the Magician.

It would be so easy; it was already happening. Power now flowed from Adam to Ronan without Ronan commanding it to. Ronan wouldn’t even have to pull, he could just let the light take its course. Cabeswater wanted to rebuild him, was eager to help him do it if he just grabbed for the power. If he stood here and did nothing, his memories would be returned to him and Adam would become an ordinary boy.

Adam wouldn’t die. Ronan knew he could cut off the transfer after he got what he wanted but before Adam died. Adam would be alive and whole, with all his memories and all of those abilities he had that Cabeswater couldn’t touch. 

Ronan’s father would have done it, without question. You didn’t get to be powerful like Niall by hesitating as Ronan did now.

Ronan was not his father. And he didn’t want to take Cabeswater from Adam. Adam had told Ronan to want and thus take, and Ronan wanted so much, so impossibly much, but he didn’t want this.

He lifted his hand, the one connected to the light, and brought it slicing down through the air, as vicious as he knew how. It was vicious enough: the line flared, near blinding, before it disappeared. 

The connection between Adam and Ronan was severed. Ronan remembered nothing new, and Adam’s magic remained intact. 

Adam still lay on the ground, looking not much more substantial than a rumpled pile of clothes.

“Wake up,” Orphan Girl said. “You have to wake him up.”

Ronan didn’t bother to give her a reply. He rushed forward to kneel by Adam, cradling Adam’s head in his lap the way he had after pulling him out of that lake. Adam still wore his crown of thorns and necklace of flowers, and Ronan ripped them off. Adam was the only thing he wanted to take with him.

Because Adam was asleep, Ronan touched his face, let his fingers travel over his fine nose and proud lips. He’d never known an Adam who wasn’t powerful, couldn’t remember a time when that hadn’t been true, and now he never would.

Ronan held Adam close to his chest. He thought about all the things he wanted, and woke up.

***

True to their word, Gansey and Blue came running when Ronan needed them to. It was dark inside the coffin and Ronan slammed his hand against the lid, hoarsely yelling. His heart only had the chance to beat a few scared times in the tiny dark space before Gansey was there, opening the coffin and bending over, taking Ronan’s outstretched hand and helping him to sit up.

Beside them, Blue was doing the same for Adam. Ronan was a little impressed that she was strong enough to open the heavy coffin lid herself. Gansey’s hands were all over him, touching Ronan’s head and his shoulders and chest, then stopping and hovering over Ronan’s throat.

“Ronan, your neck,” Gansey said, horrified. “And your eye!”

Ronan guessed that there were angry red marks on his neck and that he had a blossoming black eye. He guessed this because both points on his body hurt like hell, and talking was difficult. “I got a little banged up,” he said, scratchily.

Gansey made a noise that defied interpretation and embraced Ronan. Ronan hugged him back with limbs that ached.

“Did it work?” Blue said, sounding very stressed out. 

“Yes,” Adam said. He seemed as exhausted as Ronan, and Ronan thought of him lying unmoving on the forest floor. “Ronan’s the Greywaren again.”

Gansey pulled back enough to look Ronan in the eye, his hands still gripping Ronan’s shoulders tight. “And your memories? The amnesia?”

Ronan shook his head. 

“Wait, wait,” Adam said. Ronan heard the sounds of Adam scrambling out of his coffin. He didn’t turn to look, keeping his eyes steady on Gansey’s face. “That can’t be right. You didn’t get your memories back? Are you _sure?_ ”

“I’m fucking sure,” Ronan said.

“But we reversed the energy flow,” Adam blundered on. “I felt it! Cabeswater told me what needed to happen, that you could use our connection to take your memories back. Why didn’t it work?” 

Ronan felt furious with him for not knowing the answers already. Adam was so smart, so intuitive, but he was going to make Ronan tell him this instead of getting to the conclusion on his own. 

“It would have taken your magic,” Ronan managed to get out. His throat ached. He turned to look over at Adam finally, and saw Adam staring at him without comprehension. Gansey and Blue stood motionless, looking between them like they were waiting for an explosion.

Ronan didn’t want to give them one, although he was angry. He was blackly furious at the whole damn world and at Cabeswater specifically, but he didn’t want to make this worse by yelling at Adam. 

“It would have been a trade,” Ronan said. “Your Magician powers for my memories. If I had taken that much, your connection to Cabewater would be gone.”

“Oh, shit,” Blue said softly. Gansey put a hand to his mouth.

Adam was still staring at Ronan like he didn’t get it. “So why didn’t you do it?” he said, honest-to-god fucking bewildered by what Ronan had chosen to do.

It was too much. The coffin lid was open at Ronan’s right side, and he banged his fist against it as hard as he could, three violent times. Blue and Gansey both jumped but Adam didn’t move, just set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. 

“You asshole!” It hurt to yell but Ronan did it anyway, throwing Adam’s earlier curse at him back in his face. “You told me yourself, you’re the Magician! You think I want my memories that bad?”

“Ronan,” Gansey said, in the voice that was usually enough, but it didn’t work this time. Ronan threw himself from his coffin, getting both feet on the ground and shouldering past Adam, stalking to the crypt door and throwing it open. He moved with such force that he half-expected the walls to shake. Good. He’d happily bring this whole place down around their ears.

“Ronan,” Adam said, and his voice was nothing like Gansey’s, his voice was loud and almost panicked, almost crazed. Ronan still didn’t turn around.

“You told me to take. Well, I don’t want your shit,” Ronan spat over his shoulder. “Fucking keep it.”

“I would have been fine,” Adam said. “I would have forgiven you--”

It was the worst thing Adam could have said. Ronan whirled, his rage cresting. “I don’t care! It wasn’t about that!” 

“Then why?” Adam cried out. He looked so upset, his features twisted by his desperate desire to understand. Behind him, Gansey had his arm around Blue’s shoulders, clutching her close while they watched. “Why wasn’t it worth it?”

Ronan’s fury left him as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him rudderless with empty sails. It was so obvious why Adam couldn’t understand this. Couldn’t understand someone valuing him enough to make their own sacrifice. Maybe Adam would have understood it a little better if Ronan had done it in order to stay in Adam’s good graces, to stay in Adam’s bed; that sort of exchange made sense in Adam’s world. 

But Ronan doing the hard thing just because he saw Adam as a valid person in the world, a person who deserved the things he’d worked for. This Adam struggled with. 

Ronan shook his head. It was useless trying to find the right words, they didn’t exist, so instead he said more wrong ones. “You’re an idiot. It just wasn’t.”

Adam kept staring, and Ronan watched as the confusion melted off his face, leaving only anger behind. Ronan lowered his eyes. It was Adam’s turn to rage, and Ronan would let him.

“Fuck you,” Adam said, overtaken by his accent. “I’m an idiot? You could have fixed yourself and you did something stupid instead. _I would have been fine._ It would have been worth it to me! You should have done it, I would have wanted you to! I wanted you to remember!”

Ronan let the words wash over him, although ‘fix’ caught and twisted a bit, adding a pinprick to the pain he already felt from his face and throat. “I wanted that, too,” he said. Tired. 

“You could have had it!” Adam roared. “You could have--” He cut himself off, turning his back to Ronan and dropping to a crouch. His head was in his hands, he was pulling at his hair again.

Gansey dropped to a crouch in front of Adam, putting a cautious hand on his shoulder. He looked up to meet Ronan’s eyes briefly, checking on him, before he focused on Adam.

“We should get back to the surface,” Gansey said. Ronan could tell that Gansey didn’t know how to talk to Adam when he was like this, didn’t know how gentle or stern his voice should be. 

“Go on without me,” Adam said. Muffled, into his hands.

“No way,” Gansey said. “We all go back together. That was the plan.” 

“I’m still the Magician, remember?” Adam said, horribly bitter. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

Ronan expected Gansey to argue more, but instead he stood up with a frown. “All right,” he said to Adam’s hunched form. 

Gansey and Blue and Ronan left the crypt, pausing to collect sleeping bags and backpacks. They didn’t get far. As soon as they were around a corner Gansey stopped them.

“There’s no way we’re leaving without him, obviously. The two of you go on ahead. I’ll wait for Adam.”

“I’ll wait, too,” Blue said immediately. She and Gansey were holding hands.

“Me too,” Ronan said, but Blue shook her head and Gansey winced.

“He’s not going to want to see you,” Blue said, blunt. 

“Do you know the way back?” Gansey said, trying to soften the blow of his obvious agreement with Blue’s remark.

“Yeah, it’s just up and out.” Ronan said. He turned away from them and started walking away, away from their naked concern and away from Adam breaking down. 

He was in the middle of the steep climb when Noah appeared at his side. Ronan was too tired to be surprised. He just grunted hello.

“I can go, if you don’t want the company,” Noah said. He reached out, almost touching Ronan’s busted eye before his hand dropped to Ronan’s shoulder. He squeezed once and let go. The cold from his touch lingered.

Ronan shook his head, and Noah stayed. They climbed out of the cave and made their way through Cabeswater in silence. 

***

They still had several days left of spring break. Ronan found himself at loose ends, weirdly and infuriatingly. He was not someone who needed school to give his days meaning, and he’d never once in his life wished for summer to end sooner. Ronan got bored sometimes, yes, but boredom led to anger which usually led to something to do. He’d never found himself wishing idly for more structure, for someone to give him further instruction. 

But now the days stretched out. Ronan told himself he was not waiting for Adam, not waiting for some kind of resolution. But it didn’t matter what he told himself: the words they’d exchanged, the way they’d screamed at each other in that tomb, rang around in his brain, heavier than the weight of a thousand lost memories.

This made a twisted kind of sense, to Ronan. He could not wrap his mind around the enormity of accepting his amnesia as permanent; it was too much to grieve all at once. But he could wrap his mind around that fight. It served as something to obsess over. 

Days kept going by without any kind of word from Adam. It slowly dawned on Ronan that this fight they’d had might have been the end of whatever fledgling thing they’d started. It seemed crazy to Ronan that a sacrifice made for Adam’s sake might be something Adam couldn’t forgive. It didn’t seem real. He wanted to ask Gansey or Blue or Noah about it, considering they’d all known Adam for much longer, but he didn’t want to give voice to his fear that he wouldn’t be forgiven.

Gansey fluttered around him like a nursemaid, and Ronan was too tired and unhappy to do anything but accept it. He spent most of that first day out of the crypt asleep, with Gansey checking on him regularly: making him sandwiches, bringing him some kind of cream for his bruised neck and eye, applying the cream with gentle fingers. If Gansey was curious as to why Ronan had woken injured while Adam had not, he didn’t say anything about it. 

Ronan dreamed up snowballs that did not melt, and a stern-looking stuffed bear. Harmless objects that reminded him of childhood. It was as much of an apology from Cabeswater as Ronan was ever going to get. 

Two days after the crypt, Gansey arrived home with Mexican takeout for dinner. Monmouth had a table but they still ate on Gansey’s bed, and Gansey just smiled slightly when Ronan dripped salsa on his duvet cover. Noah wasn’t there, he’d been mostly gone ever since he’d accompanied Ronan out of the forest. Ronan wondered if that had taken so much of Noah’s effort that it had drained him for the subsequent days; but then, he didn’t really know how Noah worked.

In the middle of telling some rambling story about the crew team’s spring break (several members had been texting updates to Gansey, apparently), Gansey stopped and paused and then said, “I’m happy to go with you back to Arlington. Just say the word. Those doctors can do more tests. There might be some sort of… procedure that would help.”

Ronan set down his enchilada, appetite gone immediately. Anger rose to replace it but exhaustion sent that back down. “No. No more doctors. No more trying.”

“Ronan,” Gansey said, and his voice broke in a way that sounded new to Ronan. Gansey was covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shook, Gansey looked--Gansey looked like he was grieving, and Ronan didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that we couldn’t--” Ronan braced himself for ‘fix,’ but instead Gansey said, “--heal you.”

Ronan didn’t know why switching one word could make such a difference. It wasn’t for him to understand. He was too busy with the full impact of Gansey’s apology and the acknowledgement of his wounds. 

Ronan felt his eyes get hot and let it happen. It wasn’t okay to cry in front of Gansey because it wasn’t okay to cry in front of anyone, but Ronan had done it often enough that he felt somewhat resigned. Gansey looked up from his hands, looked at Ronan, and when tears slid down Ronan’s cheek Gansey reached out to catch them with his thumb. 

He was never getting his memories back, and he was never getting his father back. Ronan forced the word ‘never’ into an ugly neon sign in his brain, something blaring and violent that he couldn’t look away from. The only thing he could do was adjust to it and keep going. 

“I’m sorry too,” Ronan said. Gansey pulled him into a hug, not caring that their knees were squashing takeout boxes and getting enchilada sauce everywhere. 

“I’ve lost you so many times,” Gansey was saying, his hand clenched in Ronan’s shirt. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. I hate it.”

It struck Ronan in such a wrong way that he pulled back, stopped crying on Gansey’s polo and looked him in the eye instead. 

“I’m still here,” Ronan said, sharp. “Just because I’m missing a few pieces doesn’t mean I’m _not here._ Maybe I’m different from who I was before, maybe the old me is--”

Ronan choked on the word ‘gone’; Gansey was staring at him with eyes as wet as Ronan’s own. Ronan continued, with effort, because usually he didn’t bother expressing himself well but this was important. 

“Don’t ask me to be the same as I was,” he said. “That’s not recovery. I can’t do that. I can only accept all this shit and move on.”

The words felt too large for the air between them. Gansey took Ronan’s hand and squeezed his fingers. Ronan realized that he was shaking slightly and tried to be still.

“I’m sorry. It’s a lot to accept,” Gansey said, barely above a whisper. “But I can accept it, I can. If you need me too.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “I think I do.” 

***

Adam came by Monmouth on Friday night, with only two days of their break left. Ronan was lying in bed in his room, music playing softly on his stereo while he ran his fingers through Chainsaw’s feathers, when he heard the knock on the door and heard Gansey answer it with a certain kind of excited surprise that could only indicate Adam’s presence. 

Ronan didn’t get up. He listened as Gansey and Adam talked in voices too low to be understood through a door. Their conversation lasted so long that Ronan was starting to wonder if Adam was here to see Gansey, not him. Then he heard Adam’s knock on his door. 

Chainsaw yelled ‘kerah’ and took off from her seat on Ronan’s chest, flapping around the room. Ronan cursed at her as he went to the door, and when he opened it she flew past his ear, flying in more circles before finally perching on Gansey’s desk, still screeching. 

Adam watched her fly, his face impassive. “She thinks you smell,” Ronan told him, because Adam was probably here to have an adult conversation and Ronan was trying not to panic about that.

“I probably do,” Adam said evenly. He turned back to Ronan. “Can I come in?”

Ronan shrugged and turned around, sat on the floor with his back to his bed. Adam sat next to him. Ronan wondered how many inches of space existed between their knees. 

“Your bruises look better,” Adam said, his eyes moving over Ronan’s face and torso. Ronan touched his neck, an unconscious gesture, before making his hand into a fist in his lap.

“My bruises look like shit,” Ronan said.

“That’s how you know they’re healing, they start getting all green and yellow,” Adam said. Ronan was about to snap that of course he knew how bruises healed, but then it occurred to him that Adam probably knew much, more about bruises than Ronan did. 

So instead Ronan said “Yeah,” and stared at the wall. They lapsed into silence. Ronan was starting to think about inviting Chainsaw back in to make more noise when Adam finally spoke. 

“I don’t want us to start yelling again,” Adam said. “But I still can’t believe what you did. I still don’t understand.”

Ronan’s first instinct upon hearing that was to yell. He grit his teeth until the urge passed, and kept his voice flat when he said, “What part don’t you get?”

“I would have lived, if you had taken your memories back. I wouldn’t even have been injured. All it would have done was remove this thing that’s been almost more trouble than it’s worth.”

A sickening new thought occurred to Ronan, and he finally turned to look at Adam. “I’d gotten the impression that you liked being Cabeswater’s magician,” he said. “Was I wrong?”

Adam didn’t answer immediately, and then he bowed his head. “No, you weren’t wrong. I like it.” He made it sound as if it were a sin for him to like it, as if it was something an authority ought to shame him for. Ronan knew a lot about confessing sins, and he had no idea what god thought of magic forests and their caretakers, but he didn’t think it was a sin for Adam to feel empowered. 

“Okay, so then that’s why,” Ronan said, blowing out an irritated sigh when Adam still looked lost. “I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s not complicated. Getting my memories back would have felt wrong if I was taking away something that mattered to you.”

Something happened on Adam’s face at the words ‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ and Ronan entertained the fleeting thought of burning Robert Parrish’s whole trailer park to the ground. He kept talking, because Adam didn’t look like he could talk. “It just wasn’t worth it, it didn’t add up. 2X didn’t fucking equal 4Y, all right? You’re better at math than I am, you figure it out.”

Adam swallowed. “That equation doesn’t make any sense.”

Ronan made a rude gesture. “Eat me. I’m sick of explaining, I don’t know how else to put it so that you get it. You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

Adam made a pained noise. “I get it, I just--if it had been me, my choice, I would have chosen the opposite. I would have given up Cabeswater and being the magician and everything, if it meant you got your memories back. If we could do it again--”

“We can’t,” Ronan said, letting his voice go brutal. “And it wasn’t your choice. It was mine. My mind, my choice. You’d take that away from me?”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. They were still sitting so far apart and everything about Adam’s body language radiated tension and misery. Ronan wanted to make it better but had no idea how. He needed Adam to understand, to give him this, but Adam still looked far from understanding. Adam looked like he was one breath away from flying apart at the seams.

“I wanted it to work,” Adam said, his voice wrecked. “I wanted you to remember again, partly for us but mostly for _you_ , I wanted you to get it all back, I wanted you to just--remember fighting my dad and remember Kavinsky and remember saving Gansey together--”

For a horrible moment Ronan thought Adam would cry, and god, Ronan had never meant to make Adam cry. But instead Adam turned his face away and dug his hands into the carpet, so hard that it must hurt, it looked like it hurt. Instead Adam tried to hide what he was feeling from Ronan and that was worse, much worse than seeing Adam cry.

“I wanted it, too.” It was the only thing Ronan could say, uselessly repeating what he’d already said down in the crypt. Saying it made him furious and he started to curse, over and over again, directing his foul language at the wall instead of at Adam. He couldn’t stop until Adam finally twisted back to face him and halted Ronan’s tirade with a hand on his cheek. 

“You’ve known me for two months,” Adam said. “Two months, and you did this for me.”

Ronan shook his head. “Longer than that. It’s been longer than that, even if I can’t remember.” 

Adam kissed him. Ronan didn’t see it coming and was therefore clumsy, his teeth knocking into Adam’s, his jaw too forward. He adjusted and then the kiss became good. Kissing Adam had never not been good, but something itched in Ronan’s skin and he pushed Adam away.

“You know that it wasn’t about _this,_ right?” Ronan said, gesturing at their mouths. He had to be sure. “It wasn’t even entirely about you.”

“I know,” Adam said. His fingers encircled one of Ronan’s wrists, holding Ronan like he mattered. “I know, Ronan. You’re decent.”

It was hard for Ronan to let a remark like that fall on his shoulders without rolling away from it. “Maybe,” he said begrudgingly, and Adam kissed his forehead.

“Thank you,” Adam said. No one had ever made ‘thank you’ sound like this before, not to Ronan’s ears: like Ronan was on the other side of the confessional booth for a change, like he’d just offered up something holy.

It was hard to deal with. Ronan looked down to where Adam was holding his wrist. “Wanna spend the night?” he said, awful and awkward.

Adam sat back, head tilting to the side. “Do you want me to?”

It was a sincere question that seemed to require a sincere answer. So Ronan met Adam’s eyes and said, simply, “Yes.”

“Then I will,” Adam said. And then he smiled, and he had such a nice smile that Ronan kissed him for it.

It was still early, so they watched a movie on the couch with Gansey, who looked impossibly relieved that they were no longer fighting. Ronan was relieved, too, and he felt the need to unwind, to just hang out and do something that had nothing to do with anything.

They let Gansey pick the movie. It was something French and black and white, with subtitles; Gansey claimed it was a classic, but to Ronan it barely registered. All he cared about was that Adam grabbed his hand shortly after they all sat down and held onto it for almost the entire thing. The movie was just something happening in front of Ronan’s face while he memorized the precise shape of the fingers of Adam’s left hand, and occasionally said rude things to Gansey.

When it was over, Gansey stood up and yawned theatrically. “It’s late,” he said. To Adam, “Are you spending the night? In Ronan’s room?”

Gansey sounded so excited at the prospect that Ronan was embarrassed for him. Adam made it worse by looking bashful. “Is that okay?”

“Jesus shit,” Ronan groaned. “You don’t need to ask his _permission._ Come on.” He kept hold of Adam’s hand and dragged him toward his bedroom. 

“Goodnight, Gansey,” Adam called as he let himself be dragged.

“Goodnight!” You could hear how much Gansey was beaming in his voice. Ronan groaned again and pulled Adam into his room, then slammed the door behind them.

Self-consciousness made itself known the second they were alone. Ronan dropped Adam’s hand. “Uh,” he said.

“I hadn’t assumed that you asked me to spend the night for sex,” Adam said.

Ronan was glad that Adam had said this--glad one of them had--but suddenly the floor was the only safe place to look. “Okay,” Ronan said, willing his voice to be somewhere near level. “I mean, yeah.”

“Yeah as in you didn’t, or yeah as in you actually do want to have sex?” Adam’s voice was flat and--and _amused,_ the asshole. Ronan looked up from the carpet to glare at him.

“‘Yeah’ as in you can sleep in that pile of trash Chainsaw likes to crap on,” Ronan said.

“Specify, I see more than one pile,” Adam said. He laughed and held up his hands in a truce when Ronan squawked in indignation. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, still giggling. 

Ronan crowded into Adam’s space, gratified when Adam stood his ground. “You’re not sorry,” he said, and it felt too daring to lean in and kiss the corner of Adam’s mouth but Ronan did it anyway. “I don’t want you to be sorry.”

“Apology rescinded,” Adam said, turning his nose in to nudge at Ronan’s ear.

“What the fuck does ‘rescinded’ mean?” Ronan said, not caring at all about what he was saying.

“Ask Gansey,” Adam said.

“I think I’ll leave Gansey to his Criterion Collection,” Ronan said. He liked just being close to Adam like this, not exactly kissing, just existing in Adam’s space. He let his forehead lean against Adam’s shoulder.

“Ah, so you _were_ paying attention when he was talking about Godard,” Adam said. His hand came up to cup the back of Ronan’s head, and Ronan remembered when Adam had done that before, during the dream blizzard.

“Fuck Godard,” Ronan said. He grabbed both of Adam’s hands and tugged him backwards. “Come on. Aren’t you tired?”

“Not as tired as I usually am, no,” Adam said, but he let Ronan pull him toward the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The tower on the hill in England is a real place, Glastonbury Tor: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glastonbury_Tor In Welsh mythology, it's one of the possible entry points to the Welsh otherworld, Annwn.  
> -The naked people in the otherworld aren't based on any actual myths, though. I just wanted them to be naked.  
> -The movie they watch with Gansey is Godard's "Breathless."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the rating has gone up! *throws confetti*
> 
> If you're interested, I posted a fanmix for this story up on 8tracks: https://8tracks.com/zeegoeshere/trouble-s-what-you-re-in

“I’m done mourning for myself,” Ronan said the next day, facing the wall while he and Adam lay in bed together. 

It was early, although not very early by Adam’s usual standards. Neither of them had spoken yet, each becoming aware of the other’s wakefulness in the space of yawns and grunts and soft stretches that did not disentangle them from each other. 

Adam was surprised to hear Ronan say this, instead of any kind of morning greeting. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, still sleep-muzzy and confused, but with heart strings ready to pull taut at the mention of Ronan in mourning.

“Just--” Ronan stopped, and didn’t say anything for so long that Adam wondered if the subject had been dropped. Then he continued. “I know you’re sad that I’m still amnesia boy. Gansey’s sad, we’re all sad. But at least I’ve got my power back. I wanna be happy about that.”

Adam tightened his arms where they held Ronan. Pressed a kiss to the nape of Ronan’s neck. “You want us to be happy for you?”

Ronan shifted, settled. “Yeah. I know everything’s not okay. But--yeah.”

Adam considered this. When he thought about Ronan’s sacrifice, when he thought about the impossibility of Ronan never getting back when he’d lost, he still felt despair and grief and frustration push against each other inside him like tectonic plates, heaving and huge and ready to cause an earthquake. 

But this was about Ronan. This was Ronan asking Adam to give him something. Ronan’s latest gift, the gift of Adam remaining the Magician, had been given with such furious conviction that Adam would be humbled by it for the rest of his life. Surely Adam could give him what he was asking for; surely Adam could swallow how much he ached for his friend and display relief and happiness instead.

“Sure,” Adam said. “I can--we can be happy for you.”

“Okay,” Ronan said. He leaned back into Adam and they said nothing, for a while. Chainsaw seemed to still be asleep. From the rest of Monmouth there were distant noises that probably meant Gansey was making coffee and possibly breakfast.

“Here.” Ronan held up his hand, which held something small. When Adam reached up to touch it, earphones slipped from Ronan’s hand to his, their cord already tangled. 

“Listen,” Ronan said. So Adam held them to his ear. They were, of course, not connected to any sort of music playback device--they didn’t even have a jack you could connect to anything, they ended in a wisp of wires. But they were playing a song on the piano, something simple but sweet and entirely lovely. Adam wasn’t very musically inclined, had never had time to develop interests in bands or composers, but he listened until the song faded out, faded into the sound of waves coming into shore, then started over.

***

Ronan desired to not be pitied, and Adam took this seriously. He conveyed Ronan’s wish to Blue and Noah. When he tried to tell Gansey, they got into a squabble over how Adam didn’t need to tell Gansey things about Ronan because Gansey was still Ronan’s friend and roommate and would hear it from Ronan himself, thank you very much. It took Adam by surprise: Gansey had never seemed particularly concerned with aggressively asserting his closeness to Ronan, not like Ronan had with Gansey in the first few months that Adam had known him. 

Then again, Ronan had never dated anyone before. Maybe Gansey had felt a little threatened.

It was strange and sort of laughable to think of what Adam and Ronan were doing as “dating.” They’d never gone on actual date; the most they’d done physically was kiss and have sleepovers. But they’d traded magic powers and then climbed into coffins together beneath Cabeswater, and Ronan had sacrificed for Adam. At this point, they had so many tangled connections that calling it “dating” seemed weird and insufficient.

Whatever it was they were doing, they didn’t do much of it in the weeks following Spring Break. All of Adam’s spare time went to hanging out with all four of his friends--it felt so good to just be the five of them again, with no crises around the corner. The permanent loss of Ronan’s memories was keenly felt, but everyone respected his feelings on the matter and the atmosphere never became too tragic. On the contrary, things felt almost celebratory; the thought kept occurring to Adam that this was how he’d imagined it would feel after they found Glendower. 

It meant Adam didn’t get much time alone with Ronan, but he found he didn’t mind too much. They stole occasional kisses, they held hands underneath the table at Nino’s, they invaded each other’s personal space at odd yet comforting times. This thing with Ronan felt solid, like it wasn’t going anywhere. 

Two weeks after the end of Spring Break, Gansey sought out Adam after classes were over. Gansey seemed to be in the middle of some sort of internal crisis. Adam watched him as they stood in the middle of the hall: any trace of kingly Gansey was gone, and in its place was a boy who had chewed scabs on his lips and who couldn’t seem to look Adam in the eye. 

“Gansey,” Adam said, as gently as he could. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s _wrong_ , that’s the thing,” Gansey said, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks puffed out in an anxious exhale and he met Adam’s eyes finally, somewhat ruefully. “I know we were all going to get gelato tomorrow night, but I’d like to take Blue on a date instead. Just the two of us.”

Adam was surprised, and didn’t want to show it. “You don’t have to ask my permission,” he said, fixating on details to give himself time to process the larger topic.

Gansey shook his head and laughed, some of his kingliness returning to the set of his shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to, actually. I suppose some of my nervousness came out in my word choice. What I meant to say was, I’m taking Blue out tomorrow. That’s happening.” His thumb came up to brush his bottom lip, and his lashes fluttered. “But I hope you’re okay with it. I want you to be okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” Adam said immediately, because upon processing he’d discovered that he didn’t want to make Gansey wait to hear this from him, didn’t want to keep him in suspense. It was obvious how deeply Gansey cared about Adam’s opinion on this, and Adam found it difficult to dredge up any lingering resentment. Gansey had tried to hide this from him, but he had meant well. Gansey was a bottomless fountain of well-meaning, and it made Adam want to be kind to him about this.

Gansey’s face lit up in a grin, so bright that Adam almost wanted to shade his eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Adam said. He laughed, because actually, it was this simple. “Ronan, remember?”

“Of course,” Gansey said. “Obviously, I knew that you were--that you had--It’s not like I thought you still liked Blue!”

“I know,” Adam said, laughing harder. “Gansey, I know. It’s all right.”

Gansey opened and shut his mouth, then laughed too. “Is it that easy? Just, ‘all right?’”

“Guess you’re not as star-crossed as you thought,” Adam said drily. 

“I didn’t think we were anything! I never allowed myself to,” Gansey said, and Adam felt a small pang at knowing that Gansey hadn’t allowed himself to think certain thoughts because of how Adam might feel.

“Oh, Gansey,” Adam said, because it was somehow easier to put what he felt into Gansey’s name than to try and find other words. Gansey’s smile changed to be something less ecstatic but more fond, and he made an abortive gesture forward with his chest and arms. It was a hugging gesture, Adam realized; Gansey had thought to hug him.

They’d never been the type to hug. It would have never occurred to Adam to try and turn them into the type of friends who hugged. But for some reason it seemed possible here, in a mostly-empty Aglionby hallway with this one last big secret finally out in the open. Maybe it was being with Ronan that made Adam feel like the relationships in his life could be less tortuous. Or maybe he was just growing up.

It was still awkward. Adam moved forward with his arms hovering out in front of him, but stopped when Gansey’s eyes widened. They froze like that for less than a second, and then Gansey let out a whoosh of air and pulled Adam to him. Adam had meant to keep his grip light, but Gansey was hugging him hard, Gansey was not doing this halfway, and the hug was not brief. Adam gave as good as he got, in the end. 

If Gansey was going out with Blue tomorrow night, that meant the rest of them were at loose ends. Adam’s heart skipped a beat when he thought through the implications of this. He texted Ronan on the way to the trailer factory: _Gansey’s busy tomorrow night but I’m free. Do you want to come over after class?_

Adam threw himself into work and didn’t check his phone until his first break, a couple hours into the shift. Ronan had responded: _im supposed to have dinner with aurora and matthew and fucking declan but after that yeah_

Adam let himself be excited. Excitement carried him through the rest of his shift and let him breeze through his Friday classes. Excitement made the beginning of spring feel impossibly vivid. Adam was surrounded by young new organic life, and this year he had something new and young, too, something growing that was entirely his own. 

In the hours between the end of class and Ronan coming over, Adam busied himself with showering and cleaning his apartment and doing his homework for the weekend. Nine pm rolled around with no word from Ronan, and Adam was starting to feel edgy. He’d made some ramen for himself but he still felt hungry, and he no longer had anything to do to distract him from his growling stomach. Plants grew from his floor and Adam amused himself for a while by making them change shape, watching as tendrils imitated Gansey’s face, and Blue’s and Noah’s and Ronan’s. 

Adam was less powerful since spring break. He could no longer teleport himself or anyone else, which was mostly a relief. But plants still did what he asked them to do, and he was still Cabeswater’s hands and eyes. Adam felt quite comfortable with the level of magic he currently possessed. For the first time in a long time, _trouble’s what you’re in_ did not seem to apply to him. 

Finally, at around 9:30 came Ronan’s loud knock on his door. Adam jumped to his feet as his plants slithered back beneath the floorboards. When he opened the door, Ronan was a dusky silhouette against the light from the street. For just a moment he struck Adam as a character from a fairy tale, mythic in the way he occupied space. He took the shape of Adam’s front door and changed it, built it anew to suit him. 

Adam could feel his attraction to Ronan like something physical and real, like armor on his skin or a sword in his hand. He stepped forward, out of his apartment and onto the small landing, and kissed Ronan by way of greeting.

He had invited Ronan here for kissing, after all. He didn’t want his intentions to be misunderstood.

Ronan made a soft surprised noise but kissed back agreeably, fitting himself into Adam like it was the most natural thing to do. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, and Adam broke the kiss to tug on the strap.

“What’s this?” he asked, although he had an idea of what the backpack probably contained. He wanted to hear Ronan say it.

“Change of clothes,” Ronan said, confirming Adam’s theory. “A toothbrush and shit. I assumed this’d be a slumber party.”

“You’re correct,” Adam said. He stepped back to let Ronan come inside. Ronan dumped his backpack on the floor and went to Adam’s table, which still had homework spread over it. Adam watched Ronan flip idly through the pages of their calculus textbook. When Ronan spoke, it wasn’t about schoolwork.

“Dinner was good,” he said. “Mom wants to go to college this summer. That’s why she got us all together, to tell us.”

Adam stared. He’d seen and done so many impossible things lately but something about this seemed more impossible than the rest. “Aurora? _College?_ ”

“Community college,” Ronan said. He was smiling, just slightly, still flipping through Adam’s textbook. “I guess it’s something she’s been thinking about for a while. She wants something to do, and she thinks college could be interesting.”

Adam struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of a dream getting bored. But then, perhaps Aurora had ceased to be a dream once they’d freed her from the ley line. This certainly seemed like evidence for that hypothesis. “Does she know what she wants to study?” he asked, landing on practical questions to deal with the absurdity.

Ronan laughed a little bit, finally looking up from Adam’s homework. “She says she’s ‘open to all possibilities’,” he said with airquotes, “but that she’s interested in plant science, biology and forests and shit like that.”

Aurora Lynch, Wildlife Ecologist. Adam supposed it made a certain kind of sense. “Wow. That’s incredible,” Adam said, and meant it. He couldn’t imagine his own mother ever enrolling in college classes. Her obstacles were nothing like Aurora’s, of course; it was stupid, really, to even think of her in this context. Adam tried to push it from his mind, to focus on Ronan’s good news. 

“It’s weird,” Ronan said, but he wasn’t trying very hard to hide how pleased he was. 

“I think it’s great,” Adam said, and moved forward into Ronan’s space. He hooked his fingers in Ronan’s belt loops, a thrill running through him at the knowledge that he could do this, he was allowed. Ronan came willingly when Adam tugged him in, and their mouths fit together like the most natural thing in the world. Adam enjoyed this so much, just kissing Ronan, just connecting to him in the simplest of ways. 

Naturally Ronan ruined it. He detached himself from Adam’s mouth and stepped back, waving a hand against Adam’s noise of protest. He had his phone in hand, pecking at the keys and frowning down at it in concentration.

“Ronan,” Adam said, incredulous. He would not have thought he’d have to compete with a cell phone for _Ronan’s_ attention, of all people.

“Just one second,” Ronan said without looking up. He tapped a few more times and then slipped his phone back in his pocket. He looked deeply smug, which set off Adam’s alarm bells.

“I sent you something,” Ronan said. At Adam’s confusion, his grin widened until he looked downright wolfish.

Adam shook his head. “It can wait,” he said, but Ronan leaned away when Adam leaned in for another kiss.

“No, check your fucking email,” Ronan said, crossing his arms over his chest. When Adam stared at him, disbelieving, he jerked his chin towards Adam’s laptop. “Go on.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Adam informed him, but he sat on his bed and reached for his computer. “If this is just another youtube video of someone doing the murder squash song--”

“It fucking isn’t,” Ronan said, affronted. Adam waited for Ronan to sit down next to him, but he stayed standing, so anticipatory he was near vibrating. Adam shook his head at him before turning his attention to checking his email.

The email consisted solely of a link. Ronan had not bothered to disguise it; ‘pornhub’ was right there in the address. Adam blinked at it, felt his cheeks color, and blinked up at Ronan instead.

“I’m not clicking that,” he said.

“Yes you are,” Ronan said, and now he came to sit on the bed, jostling Adam. He rudely reached over to touch the laptop’s mouse, undeterred even as Adam swatted at him, and clicked the link itself. Adam watched in horror as it opened in a new window, as the video automatically began to play. It was titled ‘Brandon Fucked Hard Then Facial.’ It should be ‘Then Facialized,’ surely. 

Adam couldn’t believe he was critiquing the grammar in the title of a porn video. He couldn’t believe Ronan had sent him porn. He hit pause and the terrible intro music stopped. 

“We are not doing this,” Adam said, trying to sound stern.

“Why not?” Ronan said. He gave Adam a challenging look, and hell, Ronan was trying to turn this into one of those _things_ , a dare that Adam would have difficulty backing down from. 

“Because porn is stupid,” Adam tried. “Do you really watch this kind of thing and get turned on? It’s unrealistic and cheesy, look, this guy is wearing jorts.”

“ _Most_ porn is stupid,” Ronan said. “As if I would send you anything but the good shit, come on.” 

Adam covered his eyes with his hand as Ronan reached over to press play again. A helpless sort of giggle escaped him, and then there was no stopping it, he was laughing hard as the terrible porn music played again. Then the music faded out and the scene started in earnest, and Adam peeked through his fingers to see Brandon’s introduction: he was a young guy with light brown hair, in jorts and a muscle tank.

“What’s the _point_ of this?” Adam asked despairingly as the opportunity to stop this slid further away from him. 

“What do you think the point is?” Ronan said scornfully. But before Adam could retort, Ronan said “oh, shit,” and hit pause on the video again before springing to his feet.

“Almost forgot. I brought leftovers,” Ronan said, rooting through his backpack. He turned back toward Adam with a greasy paper bag held up triumphantly. 

“You brought leftovers. From the restaurant,” Adam said flatly. But the sight of that paper bag was reminding him to be hungry. “What kind?”

“Dessert,” Ronan said, pleased with himself. He disappeared into the kitchen and came out with two plates and two forks. Each plate held a slice of chocolate cake.

Adam took the plate that was handed to him. “This is what we’re doing tonight? You really want to eat cake and watch porn?”

“I really want to eat cake and watch porn,” Ronan said. He took a large bite of his cake, staring Adam down.

Adam gave in. “All right, fine. But scoot over so the laptop can be between us, otherwise I can’t eat and pay attention at the same time.”

They ended up dragging over a milk crate and setting the laptop up on that. Adam tried not to feel too self-conscious as Ronan hit play again. The cake was really good. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dessert; probably it had been gelato, but they hadn’t gone for that in a while. 

And the cake clearly wasn’t ‘leftovers.’ Ronan had obviously just ordered two slices of cake to go at the end of his family dinner. Adam wondered whether the cake had been included in the total bill, probably paid for by Aurora, or if Ronan had paid for it separately. He wondered if it mattered. 

As the porn continued, Adam thought that ‘good shit’ was relative. The dialogue was terrible. Brandon’s romantic interest was a man much older than him, who showed up at his doorstep claiming to be looking for Brandon’s father. Brandon’s father wasn’t home, but he let in this strange businessman anyway, and then they wound up in a bedroom for some reason.

Then they started kissing. And all right, Adam had to admit: this was getting pretty good. Adam hadn’t watched much porn, but he’d seen enough to know that generally the actors didn’t spend any time kissing each other before their clothes came off. But Brandon and--Adam thought his name might be Dave?--Brandon and Dave were making out, seemingly not in any hurry to get to the naked part. How much porn had Ronan sifted through to find this?

Adam snuck a look sideways at Ronan, wondering if they should be kissing now, too, if that was the point of this exercise. But Ronan was just sitting there, eating his cake and watching the video with mild interest.

What a weirdo.

They finished with the cake at about the same time as Brandon and Dave removed their shirts. The dirty plates were set on the floor, and Adam noticed when Ronan shifted to sit closer to him. 

Dave was now working his way down Brandon’s body. He kneeled on the floor, tugging Brandon’s jorts down. “I want you so bad,” Dave said. “I want to suck your cock. I want to fuck your pretty little ass.”

Adam couldn’t help his squawk of laughter. Ronan said nothing but leaned forward, hitting the mute key. The sound went off, which was definitely for the best, because Dave’s lips were still moving and Adam didn’t want to know what other terrible things he might be saying. 

And anyway, now there was a penis onscreen. Dave had Brandon’s cock out and he was stroking it, looking up at Brandon with wide eyes. Brandon was leaning against the wall, playing with his nipple with one hand while his other hand gripped Dave’s hair. Then Dave licked a stripe up Brandon’s cock and the camera zoomed in for a lingering close-up. 

It was impossible to watch this sort of thing without getting hard. Adam would be there pretty soon. He couldn’t look over at Ronan, it suddenly seemed very important not to look over at Ronan, but he suspected that Ronan was getting there, too.

Dave started blowing Brandon in earnest. His mouth slid rhythmically up and down Brandon’s cock with the ease of someone who regularly got paid for this, and as Adam watched Brandon grabbed Dave’s hair with both hands and pulled him down, thrusting into Dave’s mouth until he started to choke. 

Ronan chose that moment to turn toward him. Adam tensed, unsure what to expect, but Ronan didn’t move in for a kiss or a grope. Instead he just leaned in and pressed his face to the crook of Adam’s neck. 

Adam felt it against his skin when Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered. He felt Ronan’s breath skate across his adam’s apple. 

The room was so quiet that Adam could swear he almost heard his own heartbeat. He reached forward to close the laptop with hands that shook slightly. He’d had enough of Brandon and Dave, and wanted to give Ronan his full attention. 

Ronan lifted his head when Adam turned to face him. Their eyes met, and that alone felt like almost too much. Adam’s throat was so dry. He didn’t know what to do with this, with his arousal or Ronan’s. 

His mind was filled with images. A cock in someone’s mouth, a hand in someone’s hair. Not Ronan’s mouth or Ronan’s (lack of) hair. Adam wanted to replace those images with what was in front of him, wanted to pave over the fantasy provided by the porn with real experience. He reached out and his hand felt too large, too clumsy as it settled on Ronan’s bicep. Adam had just a second to admire the muscle of Ronan’s arm and the way it felt against his fingers, and then Ronan lunged forward and they were kissing.

It felt markedly different from the kisses they’d shared earlier, before the cake and the porn. Probably, Adam reasoned, because unlike before he was now painfully hard. His tongue in Ronan’s mouth was frantic and he worried that it might be too much, but Ronan’s hands were all over him, pulling at the sides of Adam’s t-shirt and tangling in his hair and grabbing at his shoulders. One of Ronan’s thumbs pressed, deliberate, to the side of Adam’s neck and Adam couldn’t stop his physical reaction, a full-body jerk that gave far too much away.

“Was this the point of watching porn together?” Adam said during a rare moment of not being liplocked. He could feel his own desire and Ronan’s heedless physicality threatening to pull him under and he wasn’t made to just give in to something like this. He had to pull back from it, had to wrestle for his rationality; talking helped, if he was talking then he was still a mind, still in control of himself.

“I wanted to give you ideas,” Ronan said as he leaned just far enough back to strip off his shirt. Adam looked at him and felt dizzy.

“I’m a little offended that you thought I needed ideas,” Adam said, still trying to keep so much of this at bay. He forced his eyes up from all the skin that Ronan was now showing, but Ronan was already shaking his head, reacting to Adam’s jokes with disarming sincerity.

“I just wanted to make this easier,” he said, and Adam’s heart did a stupid little skip. Ronan’s fingers were on the hem of Adam’s t-shirt and Adam held up his arms agreeably, letting Ronan lift it off him.

He felt self-conscious in a new way, because this was shirtlessness in a new context. But Ronan gave him hardly any time to feel awkward, instead leaning forward and attaching his mouth to the skin below Adam’s collarbone. Adam’s hands spasmed and he had to be touching Ronan now, had to run his palms over the dark plane of Ronan’s back, had to leave fingerprints over Ronan’s tattoo. 

Adam couldn’t believe he was getting this. Ronan half-naked and willing in his arms had felt so out of reach for so long; even before the amnesia, when he’d felt Ronan’s crush like a warm blanket over his shoulders, he couldn’t have imagined this would ever happen for real. How could he have? Nothing in his life had prepared him for how this could feel, for how simply good it was. For how casually and how extensively Ronan could put his own want on display.

Ronan was pushing him gently back, his hand splayed on Adam’s chest, and Adam let himself be pushed. He shifted until he was laying on the full length of the bed, his head on his pillow with Ronan on top of him, Ronan kissing his chest, Ronan not giving him a chance to think. 

Ronan started to aim his kisses lower on Adam’s body, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of Adam’s abdomen and hips. Adam’s body twitched and shook, and Adam’s hands fell on Ronan’s shoulders, clutching uselessly. “What--are you--?”

“Dave made it look so easy,” Ronan said, and Adam could hear the smirk in his voice, horrifyingly dirty. As distracted as he was, it took Adam a beat to realize what Ronan was saying, and then he had to bite his lip hard to keep too many words and noises from spilling out.

He let Ronan undo his fly and slide his pants down. It felt like so much to let Ronan do these things. It was even more to let Ronan peel down his briefs, to let Ronan see everything, and Adam stared up at the ceiling and tried not to completely unravel.

“Fuck,” Ronan muttered, and Adam looked down in time to see Ronan wrapping his fantastic fingers around the base of Adam’s dick. The touch was warm and good and then Ronan leaned down and pressed his tongue to the head and that was--better. Fuck. It was wet and it was _new_ and Ronan was doing it again, and again. 

“Lynch,” Adam choked out, his scrambling brain reverting to a last name he hadn’t even used in months. Adam didn’t know what he meant with ‘Lynch’: was it an attempt at distance or closeness? 

Either way, Ronan reacted, lifting up long enough to say “Parrish,” darkly amused. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Ronan ducked his head again. “You can grab my head if you want.”

Porn images flashed in Adam’s head. “You like that?”

“Dunno,” Ronan said, and returned to what he’d been doing. Adam arched. Ronan’s tongue was somehow both sloppy and circumspect, giving him long licks without paying too much attention to any particular spot. Ronan was feeling this out, curious, and when he finally fit Adam’s dick in his mouth and went down, Adam gave in to the urge to touch Ronan’s head. He fit his hand carefully over Ronan’s buzzed hair, the heel of his palm brushing Ronan’s ear. 

In response, Ronan squeezed Adam’s dick. Adam let his fingernails dig into the nape of Ronan’s neck and he seemed to like that, because he slid his mouth down until he had almost the whole length in his mouth. Adam couldn’t stop his hips from bucking and immediately felt guilty, especially because it made Ronan gag and pull off. But before Adam could say sorry Ronan pressed a wet kiss to Adam’s hip, then pressed his cheek to Adam’s dick. When Ronan glanced up at him, Adam could see the slick of spit and pre-come on his face glisten in the light.

It solidified something in his mind. Adam pulled on Ronan’s shoulders, urging him up. Ronan came, crawling up Adam’s body with a frown already in place. “Was it--”

“It’s good, it’s good,” Adam said, breathless. “I just--don’t want to be done yet.” Because Ronan had brought him so close to the edge with hardly anything, and teenaged as Adam was, he didn’t want to come so soon. He wanted to make this last, he wanted to do more. He was beginning to realize that the list of things he wanted to do with Ronan Lynch was something close to endless.

“Oh,” Ronan said, and “yeah.” He let Adam pull him down into a kiss, and the part of Adam’s brain that was always cataloguing went _so that’s what pre-come tastes like._ He wanted to taste more, he wanted to taste Ronan. He pushed on Ronan’s shoulders and rolled them over, until he was the one straddling Ronan’s chest with Ronan looking up at him.

“You still have your pants on,” Adam said. He was very much aware of his own nakedness, his dick wet and red and currently touching Ronan’s stomach.

“So take them off,” Ronan said, the jut of his chin a dare. Adam grinned down at him and moved, getting level with the button of Ronan’s jeans. He ran his hands up Ronan’s thighs, hooked his fingers into the front pockets, fit his hand against the tent shape Ronan’s dick made. It was expensive denim. And Ronan was very hard. He was being patient, but that seemed unlikely to last. 

Adam stopped teasing him and got Ronan’s jeans open and down, finding himself presented with the same kind of black boxers that Ronan always seemed to wear. The boxers had a flap, of course, and Ronan made a satisfyingly hungry sound when Adam pulled his dick out.

Adam looked up. Ronan was propped up on his elbows, watching him intently. Adam kept expecting him to say something rude, something in the vein of ‘get on with it,’ but he remained quiet, his eyes wide and dark.

Adam licked his lips and noticed the way his action made Ronan draw in a quick breath. When he looked down he noticed, too, that Ronan was uncircumcised. That was fine. He gripped Ronan’s dick loosely, the way Ronan had done for him. He licked the tip and tasted salt, and Ronan said “fuck,” loudly.

Adam wanted to tease him, something about not waking up the nonexistent neighbors, but that impulse was quickly subsumed by his curiosity regarding what was in front of him. Adam’s attraction to men, or rather his awareness of the attraction, was a more recent development than his attraction to women, and a small part of him couldn’t get over the surprise of being presented with another dick this up close and personal.

It was quite a small part, and easily ignored. Adam licked again, tonguing at the edge of the pulled-back foreskin. He fit the head into his mouth; it took up a surprising amount of space, his jaw felt slightly stretched. He slid his mouth down, and it was a little difficult given that Ronan’s dick was dry. Adam did it a couple more times and it became easier, spit and pre-come slicking things up. 

Ronan made noise, made all kinds of different noises. Groans, curses, bitten-off gasps. Each sound hit the same pleased nerve center in Adam’s brain, encouraging him to go down further, use more tongue, move his hand down to touch Ronan’s balls. He was enjoying himself. This felt not dissimilar to taking apart a car engine: the initial analysis, meticulous touches, the excitement when you did something just right and everything unfolded like you’d asked it to. Ronan was just so wonderfully responsive, both vocally and physically--his fingers moved from Adam’s shoulders to his hair to twist in the sheets, his hips kept twitching, his legs flexed. 

With Ronan’s cock still deep in his mouth, Adam crept his hands up the legs of Ronan’s boxers, his fingers brushing against the soft hair on Ronan’s thighs. Then he was holding Ronan’s ass, squeezing it, and Ronan’s thighs fell wide open like an invitation. Adam’s thumb touched behind Ronan’s balls and Ronan shouted and quite suddenly Adam could think of only one thing, all his analysis out the window as one particular want took over. 

He pulled off of Ronan’s cock and looked up, feeling not unlike a neanderthal. He couldn’t think. “Can I fuck you?”

“Jesus shitting christ,” was Ronan’s answer. Adam couldn’t see much of his face; he had an arm thrown over his eyes. 

Adam waited, and started to feel awkward. “It--doesn’t have to be tonight, it’s just--something to think about--”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. He took his arm down and pushed up on his elbows again, staring down at Adam. “Yes. You can fuck me, I want you to.”

Adam swallowed hard. He felt a step or two behind what was happening, like perhaps his mind was still buffering. He slid his hands out of Ronan’s boxers. “Okay. If. If you’re sure.”

Ronan laughed, a breathy sound that struck Adam as almost feminine, strange coming from Ronan. “You’re the one who asked. Don’t back down now.”

“I’m not _backing down_ ,” Adam said, irritation quickly solving the buffering problem. “I just think you should be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Ronan said with an eye roll. Then he stopped, hesitating with his whole body. “Uh, but I should shower first, can I shower first?”

“Of course,” Adam said, feeling like he might choke. He wanted to tell Ronan off for _asking_ , of course he didn’t need to ask if he could have a damn shower, but it was hard to form words. He couldn’t believe what they were doing, what he’d asked for. He had the distinct feeling that someone should show up and tell them they had to stop, that they were being ridiculous, that this was not anything they were allowed.

But no one was here to stop them. They were alone in Adam’s apartment, and the church below was empty on a Friday night. Shockingly, Adam fucking Ronan was something that could very well happen tonight if neither of them put a stop to it.

And Ronan didn’t seem to want to put a stop to it. He kicked his pants the rest of the way off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, springing to his feet. He walked into the bathroom without once glancing over his shoulder, without showing any sign of nervousness. A few seconds later, Adam heard the sound of the shower turning on.

Adam hadn’t moved, was still lying on the bed on his stomach, the same position he’d taken to blow Ronan. He sat up in a daze. His bewildered eyes fell on the laptop, still sitting on the milk crate in front of the bed. 

Adam grabbed for it, opened it and set it on the bed next to him. He needed something to do while Ronan was in the shower. He needed to not think while Ronan was in the shower, otherwise he’d think his way out of this. And so: Brandon Fucked Hard Then Facial. 

The sound was still off and it was going to stay off. Adam was embarrassed to be doing this but too turned on to really care. He picked up where they’d left off, with Dave choking on Brandon’s cock. That didn’t last for too much longer because, of course, Dave had promised he was going to fuck Brandon. 

Adam watched as they kissed some more against the wall, and then moved to the bed, Brandon lying on his stomach with Dave’s fingers moving greedily over him. Then Dave started fingering Brandon (the lube appeared from out of nowhere), and Brandon seemed to like this very much, his head thrown back and his mouth open to make what Adam assumed were loud fake sex noises.

Adam didn’t touch himself while he watched. Well, he didn’t touch himself much. He allowed himself a few pulls on his dick, stopping when he started to get too worked up. He needed to last long enough to make this good. If he didn’t last there was no point.

Adam found himself absorbed in what was happening onscreen, and almost didn’t notice when the noise of the shower stopped. But he looked up when Ronan walked back in, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Ronan barked out a laugh when he saw what Adam was doing. Adam shut the laptop, setting it on the floor with less care than he’d ever given it before. He stood because Ronan was still standing, and Ronan let his towel drop.

“Okay, so,” Ronan said, at the time that Adam said, “We need lube and a condom.”

Adam had only just now thought of this and his heart was already sinking, because this wasn’t porn so these items were unlikely to magically appear, but Ronan just nodded and headed over to his backpack. 

“You didn’t,” Adam said in disbelief as Ronan fished out a strip of condoms and a packet of lube. “You thought we’d be doing this tonight? You _planned_ for it?”

Ronan just shrugged, standing up and holding the items out to Adam. “I didn’t figure we would. Just wanted to be prepared.”

Adam took the lube and the condoms. “You boy scout,” he said, letting some admiration into his voice. Ronan’s lips twitched into a small smile.

Adam sat back down, setting the lube and condoms on his pillow. He looked up to Ronan, who was still standing, which seemed odd. Ronan took a step closer to Adam, moving like he hadn’t quite given himself permission to, reaching a hand out to touch Adam’s jaw. 

Adam closed his eyes as a wave of desire hit. He reached up to close his hand around Ronan’s wrist, because he wanted Ronan’s hand to stay right where it was. He turned his head blindly until he felt Ronan’s fingers against his lip instead of his jaw, and then he sucked two of Ronan’s fingers into his mouth.

“Adam, holy shit,” Ronan said. Adam sucked hard, ran his tongue over Ronan’s fingers and bit down gently, and Ronan groaned. Adam opened his eyes to look up at Ronan’s face, his mouth open, his eyes shocked. 

Adam let Ronan’s fingers slide out of his mouth and instead grabbed for Ronan’s hips, hauling him forward roughly. Ronan stumbled but then he was right there, his dick at Adam’s eye level. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Ronan said again as Adam took him in his mouth. Adam was bent on this, determined for no reason he could name, his mind running on one white-hot track. The skin of Ronan’s hips was still wet from the shower where Adam gripped him, and his dick went down Adam’s throat easy. 

Adam didn’t know how long he spent sitting there sucking Ronan’s cock. Time went weird, the way it sometimes did in Cabeswater, but this wasn’t magic, it was just teenaged horniness. At some point Ronan prodded at his shoulders and Adam leaned back, lifted his head. 

“I should have showed you porn a long time ago, _fuck,_ Ronan said. He was getting to his knees so that he was at Adam’s level, below his level. 

“I didn’t get that from porn,” Adam objected.

Ronan rubbed at Adam’s thighs, leering at him. “Oh I know. That was all you, baby.”

‘Baby’ coming from Ronan was so ludicrous that Adam laughed, a surprised belly laugh that Ronan seemed to like, if the way he grinned now was any indication. 

“Come on, this is your show, how do you want me?” Ronan said when Adam finished laughing. 

“On the bed,” Adam said. “And… on your back?” He was uncertain; he didn’t know the right answer to this. But he didn’t like the idea of Ronan on his hands and knees, at least not right now. 

Ronan did as Adam asked, sprawling indolently on his back, his limbs loose and inviting. Adam settled himself between Ronan’s legs and grabbed the little packet of lube. There didn’t seem to be very much, and Adam didn’t know if Ronan had more. He’d have to be careful.

It felt slippery on Adam’s fingers. He reached down, hesitated, feeling awkward. Was he just supposed to go for it? Ronan seemed fine with that, as he made no move to stop Adam while Adam touched his thigh, the crease of his hip, moved lower. 

When Adam pressed his finger against Ronan’s hole, he heard a hitch in Ronan’s breath that made him stop. Then Ronan said, “You can--” and Adam said “Okay” and then he was doing it, pushing his finger inside. 

It struck Adam how different this was to anything he had ever done with anyone before. It was an incredibly obvious realization, yet somehow hard for him to get past. He had a finger in Ronan’s asshole and Ronan seemed to like it, who would have ever thought? He had two fingers in, now, because Ronan had just asked for more and Adam wanted to give him what he wanted.

It was sexy, in a different way than sucking Ronan’s dick had been sexy. Ronan’s head had dropped back, giving Adam a nice view of the line of his neck, and every so often when Adam crooked his fingers this way or that, Ronan swore. There was more tension in his body than there had been when Adam had been blowing him, but Adam supposed that made sense. Adam had fingers up Ronan’s ass, and that had to hurt, even if it also felt good.

Ronan was also only half-hard now. It made his foreskin more obvious, slightly hiding the head of his dick. Adam reached to touch him with his unoccupied hand, but Ronan stopped him. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about that, not important now,” Ronan said, each word bitten-off. Adam wanted to object, but Ronan met his eyes and--he looked sure. So Adam used his hand to cup Ronan’s knee instead, rubbing his thumb over the hair on Ronan’s leg. With his other hand he pushed his two fingers in further, stretching Ronan carefully. Ronan let his head fall back again, and Adam expected another curse but instead Ronan just breathed out, long and slow and a little shaky.

“Okay,” Ronan said. “I’m good, you don’t need to--let’s do it already.”

Adam eased his fingers out, but he felt skeptical. “I don’t know. Just two fingers doesn’t seem--”

“You don’t need to get your whole hand up there before fucking me,” Ronan said, now giving him a glare that lacked heat. “I’ll be fine, come on.”

Adam wasn’t sure. “It’s just going to be a lot for you. We can continue the prep, I don’t mind.”

“Your dick isn’t _that_ big,” Ronan said. Adam watched as he realized what he’d just said, the inappropriateness of that particular insult at this particular moment in time, but typically he didn’t apologize, just set his mouth in a mulish line.

Adam found himself oddly endeared, and not in any way offended. “Thanks,” he said, smiling.

Ronan’s shoulders hunched a bit and he directed his gaze at something to the left of Adam’s ear. “Are you gonna fuck me or what,” he said, _almost_ sulky.

“Sure.” Adam’s own erection was actually flagging a little; he’d been too intent on doing this correctly for Ronan to remain turned on. He stroked himself a few times while Ronan watched. Then he grabbed the condom, tore the wrapper open, slid it on himself, and added another slick of lube.

“Okay,” Adam said, his voice shakier than he would have liked. “Um--I think you should lie back, yeah, like that.”

Ronan lay all the way down, his legs open and his feet planted on the bed, and Adam scooted closer to him. 

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop,” Adam said, lining himself up. Ronan just nodded, his eyes on Adam’s dick.

Adam stroked a hand down Ronan’s thigh. He blinked through another wave of incredulity--they were _actually doing this,_ what the hell, what the fuck. Ronan reached up to touch his fingers to Adam’s knuckles where Adam’s hand rested on his thigh. Adam leaned forward, steadied himself and pressed his dick to Ronan’s asshole, easing his way in.

The world narrowed to the way Ronan felt around him, and the way Ronan looked spread out before him. Adam tried to go slow, as slow as he could manage, concentrating hard the whole time. It didn’t seem like Ronan was relaxed enough, and for a few panicked moments Adam wondered if he should pull out and go back to using his fingers. 

But aside from one soft groan, Ronan wasn’t saying anything about pain. Adam stroked a hand down his thigh again, nervous, feeling too intense. He felt like he should say something, anything to defuse how horribly tense this was, but he couldn’t think of a god damn single thing to say with his cock half-buried in Ronan’s ass and Ronan’s thighs bracketing him. 

And Ronan wasn’t speaking, either. He bit his lip and to Adam’s surprise, pushed down with his hips, voluntarily taking more of Adam’s dick. Adam couldn’t stop a gasp. His hand on Ronan’s thigh turned into his hand clutching Ronan’s thigh, and he pushed his own hips forward.

Ronan groaned again, a little louder this time, and Adam felt some of his nervousness drop away. He continued to slide in until he was--pretty much as deep as he could go. The hand that wasn’t holding Ronan’s leg in a death grip thudded onto the mattress next to Ronan’s head as Adam leaned forward heavily. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from staring right into Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan was staring back with eyes just as wide. Adam pulled out enough to push back in, a little sharper this time, watching for Ronan’s reaction. Ronan gave him one, a gruff “uh” sound that might have been pain or pleasure or some combination. 

Adam finally had something to say: “Does this feel good?”

 _”Yes,”_ Ronan said as Adam moved his hips again. “It’s a little weird but it’s good, all right, it’s really good, I just--you can just--” Ronan stopped talking and panted instead, one of his hands coming up to wrap around Adam’s wrist. “Please.”

Adam screwed his eyes shut against a word he did not feel deserving of. “Okay,” he said, feeling crazy. He started applying himself, fucking into Ronan harder, trying to get a rhythm going.

Ronan fucking yelled, practically right into Adam’s good ear. Adam almost fell off the bed. “Jesus--”

“Will you _keep going_ \--”

This was a disaster, and also one of the best things Adam had ever experienced. Adam found himself laughing as he acquiesced to Ronan’s pushiness, putting his back into it. Ronan was grabbing at him all over and moving his own hips, helping Adam find his rhythm. It was actually kind of hard work, the muscles of Adam’s thighs beginning to burn pleasantly. 

It now felt as natural and as good as the blowjobs had felt. At some point Adam had hooked his elbow under Ronan’s knee, pressing his whole leg forward to get a better angle. Adam couldn’t remember doing this, but Ronan wasn’t objecting, and a small part of Adam’s mind took a moment to admire Ronan’s flexibility.

There was so much to admire about Ronan’s body, really, not least the way his ass felt clenched around Adam’s dick. Adam felt himself getting lost in this and let it happen, let himself slide. He was getting close--

Except that Ronan was reaching down, pulling on his own hard dick. Adam let go of Ronan’s leg in order to try and push Ronan’s hand away.

“Hey, I can--let me--”

“You’re busy,” Ronan gasped. His hips squirmed a little, the movement briefly turning Adam’s mind into an exclamation point. “I’m close, I just need to--”

“I can do it,” Adam snapped. He was certainly capable of multi-tasking. Proving it, he wrapped his hand around Ronan’s dick and squeezed hard, following it with a thrust of his hips.

“Ggh fuck,” Ronan said, his whole upper body somehow managing to sprawl even though he’d already been lying down. The leg that Adam had recently been leveraging gave a little spasm. 

It was actually kind of difficult to continue fucking Ronan while also jerking him off, but pride carried Adam through it. Ronan was leaking pre-come all over Adam’s fingers. Adam wanted to see him come so badly.

He got his wish pretty soon. Ronan actually cried out Adam’s name, like something out of--not porn, out of a god damn romance novel or something. “Adam,” and then his body jerked and Adam felt liquid hit his hand, looked down to see Ronan shooting white all over his stomach and all over Adam’s fingers. 

It was, somehow, everything. Adam stared down at the bright lines of white on Ronan’s abs and felt himself lose the rhythm, his thrusts stuttering, uneven. He was close. “Ronan,” he said, much quieter than Ronan had said Adam’s name and with much less abandon, but this was what he had to give. He couldn’t say Ronan’s name while he came, buried inside of him; he couldn’t make any sound at all.

It took a while for Adam to come fully back to himself, for his vision to clear. His pulse insisted upon itself at his wrists, in his dick and in his heart. Ronan shifted beneath him, and when Adam managed to focus he saw that Ronan was looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, lazy and sated.

Once again, Adam could think of nothing to say. He pulled out of Ronan, a little unsteady, and Ronan made a noise that could indicate pain. Adam collapsed next to him and reached out, settled his hand on Ronan’s chest. Ronan stretched his legs out for a few long seconds before relaxing again.

Adam found his words. “Everything okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Ronan scoffed at him. “‘Do I hurt anywhere,’ are you my fucking doctor now? Heh. My ‘fucking’ doctor.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Are you okay or not.”

Ronan reached up to Adam’s hand on his chest and laced his fingers through Adam’s, intimate, casual. “I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I knew that going in.”

Ronan didn’t sound bothered, so Adam decided not to be bothered either. He’d probably be sore tomorrow, too, albeit in different ways.

It felt nice to have his hand in Ronan’s. It felt nice to lie here, sweaty and gross and worn out. Adam was fuzzily aware that the condom was still on his dick, and he should really do something about that, but his body felt incredibly resistant to moving.

“I wonder what time it is,” Adam said. He tried to estimate how much time had passed between Ronan sitting him down with cake and porn and the present moment, and found he had absolutely no idea.

“Who cares,” Ronan said predictably. “I’m sleepy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Adam said around a yawn.

Another unknown quantity of time passed while they lay there, not talking, not moving, not quite asleep yet. Eventually Adam’s mind had recovered enough from his post-orgasm stupor to give him the cognition required to sit up, with effort, and dispose of the condom, getting up to toss it in the bathroom trash. 

Ronan made a wordless noise of disapproval when Adam got up. When Adam fell back onto the mattress, Ronan rolled his body into him, his chest against Adam’s shoulder, his arm slung over Adam’s chest. Adam pulled a sheet and blanket up over them.

Adam’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Every time he sort of woke up, he felt Ronan’s body close to his. Adam was starting to get used to the feeling of sleeping in the same bed with someone. With Ronan.

At some point in the middle of the night, he and Ronan wound up awake at the same time, and one thing led to another and Adam found himself grinding into Ronan’s thigh while Ronan groped his ass. It was groggy at first but then Adam’s mind came online enough to participate fully in the proceedings. Their thighs fit together and Ronan’s mouth pressed itself sleepily into Adam’s shoulder, and Adam sighed against the short buzzed hair above Ronan’s ear.

Adam could get off just from this, without Ronan even touching him. And then Ronan pushed his thigh against Adam’s dick particularly hard, and Adam _was_ getting off just from this. It was a different kind of orgasm than the first one, lazy and mellow.

Ronan came soon after. His hand moved from Adam’s ass to his lower back, holding him close. Adam tucked his face into the crook of Ronan’s neck.

“I’m crazy about you,” Adam murmured into Ronan’s skin, as quietly as he could, some part of him trying to make it a secret even though it was one of the most obvious facts of Adam’s current existence. He was going to fall back asleep soon. 

Ronan made a low noise deep in his throat. “Go back to sleep,” he said, and Adam heard Ronan’s answer in it. Sleep came back to him in the span of slow, shared, even breaths. 

***

The noise that woke Adam in the morning didn’t come from the alarm on his phone, but rather from someone knocking on his door. No: someone pounding on it, as if they’d tried knocking for a while and that hadn’t worked and they were starting to get agitated.

Then came Gansey’s voice. Naturally. “Adam? Are you up?” 

It wasn’t like Gansey to come over here and try to wake him up like this on a Saturday. Adam managed to call out, “Hang on,” and extricated himself from Ronan, bleary. He got to his feet and found clothes somehow; the whole venture seemed to take longer than it usually did.

At least Gansey had stopped his pounding when he’d heard Adam’s voice. Adam answered the door in raggedy sweats and the same t-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. He opened the door feeling very confused, extremely out-of-it in a way that he wasn’t usually upon waking.

Gansey, of course, looked a lot more put together than Adam, wearing a purple polo and black pants. Blue stood next to him, and her dress--the parts of it that were intact rather than ripped away--was also purple. Both of them pulled the color off unfairly well.

Adam leaned against the doorjamb. “Gansey, what?”

Gansey bounced on the balls of his feet, a worry line between his eyebrows. “Is Ronan here? He didn’t come home last night and he hasn’t been answering his phone.”

From inside the apartment came Ronan’s voice. “I’m here.” Then came noises of sheets rustling and feet hitting the floor, and it was early and Adam had slept deeply, so he didn’t think fast enough to pull the door in to block the apartment from view. 

The worry line disappeared from Gansey’s face, replaced by an arched eyebrow as he looked over Adam’s shoulder. Blue’s cheeks went red as she, too, looked over Adam’s shoulder. There was no doubt in Adam’s mind that Ronan was standing stark naked behind him.

Adam stepped outside and shut the door behind him, leaving it just open enough to allow Ronan to hear them. His ears felt hot. He faced Blue and Gansey as casually as he could manage. “Did you just come to check up on Ronan?”

Gansey shook his head. “Noah’s meeting us at Nino’s for brunch in a bit.”

“Pizza for breakfast?”

“It’s almost noon,” Blue said. She wasn’t smirking, but she might as well have been.

Adam hadn’t known how much he’d slept in. Regardless of what time he’d actually fallen asleep, that was more hours of sleep than he ever got. 

“Nino’s. Sure,” Adam said. “Um, I--we need to shower first.”

“I should hope so,” Gansey said, and Blue laughed, and Adam glared at them both.

Adam was unsurprised when Ronan suggested that they shower together. It would, actually, help out his water bill, at least in theory. And he wanted to touch Ronan’s body some more before they left to meet their friends.

They didn’t have sex in the shower. Neither Adam nor Ronan wanted to keep their friends waiting when there was a good chance that their friends would guess what was taking them so long. Also, Adam’s bathtub wasn’t very big. There was barely enough room for Adam and Ronan to both stand in it, and they had to press tightly together any time one of them had to maneuver under the spray to rinse off soap.

But still, Adam made no move to stop Ronan when, standing behind Adam, he let his soapy hand slide from the middle of Adam’s back to cup his ass. Ronan’s hand moved to the front of Adam’s body, holding his hip, the tips of his fingers brushing Adam’s pubic hair. Ronan kissed his shoulder.

“That feels nice,” Adam said. The water was hot, though it wouldn’t remain so for too much longer, and he liked how Ronan was touching him. There wasn’t really anything about the current moment that he didn’t like. That was a rare enough occurrence in Adam’s life to be noteworthy.

When they arrived at Nino’s, they found Blue and Gansey and Noah sitting together on one booth, leaving the other booth empty for Adam and Ronan. Ronan spent the whole meal casually occupying Adam’s personal space, and Adam kept waiting for someone to comment on this, but no one did. It was hard to tell with Blue and Gansey and Noah smushed together on the bench so that all three were touching throughout the meal, but Adam thought that Gansey and Blue were acting physically closer, too. 

It was a good time. All five of them laughed a lot, and Noah stayed present the whole time without flickering. Adam surprised himself by eating four slices of pizza, weirdly hungry, and when it seemed like they might not have ordered enough pizza, Ronan flagged a waiter and ordered another large with pepperoni.

Adam could feel Gansey’s eyes on him while Ronan ordered. This was usually a point where Adam might object, considering that he could not afford unlimited pizza. But Adam didn’t want to object, not with the mood he was in. He would pitch in for his full share, and to make up for the lost dollars later he’d probably let Ronan buy him more “leftovers.” It would be okay.

They lingered overlong in the restaurant until Blue pointed out that it was a Saturday morning, Nino’s was busy, and her co-workers would soon be getting anxious about an occupied table that could be used to seat new customers. They strolled out into the parking lot, Adam listening as Blue told a story about one of Orla’s misadventures. 

A few clouds threatened bad weather a few hours from now, but at one pm in Nino’s parking lot it was still warm, and not too warm. Summer was on its way with its long days and oppressive heat and Adam’s nineteenth birthday, but right now it was thoroughly Spring. Ronan’s shoulder bumped into Adam’s, Ronan in his orbit, Ronan at his side. Last night, Adam had slept with a boy who knew him, and things could be so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I recognize that having Aurora decide to go to college is pretty self-indulgent of me, but this is the chapter wherein Adam and Gansey hug, and Adam and Ronan watch porn, eat cake and have sex in several different position. The whole thing is self-indulgent.  
> -The song that Adam hears on Ronan's dream headphones sounds a lot like Aphex Twin's "Avril 14th."


	12. Epilogue

Ronan sat at his mother’s dining room table while Aurora made tea in the kitchen, taking the whistling kettle off the stove and opening and closing cupboards. Ronan had developed the habit of coming here after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, partly because Adam always had shifts that started immediately after classes ended on those days. Adam had shifts on most weekday afternoons, but on the other days there were usually two or three hours when he was free between school and work.

Ronan was leafing through the course catalog for the community college Aurora would start attending in a couple of weeks, mid-June. She had circled several classes, though she said she hadn’t decided yet which three she’d be taking. When Ronan had told her it was weird that she wanted to start college with a summer semester, she’d laughed and kissed his ear.

“Which mug do you want?” Aurora called from the kitchen. “Your favorite cracked one, or the Darth Vader one?”

The Darth Vader one, which proclaimed Vader to be the World’s Best Dad, had been a mother’s day gift from Declan. Ronan was still annoyed that this absurdity had surprised a laugh out of him at the time. He’d just gotten Aurora flowers, as he had every year since age twelve, when Niall had informed him that he was old enough to be responsible for a gift on this holiday that his family took quite seriously.

“The cracked one,” Ronan said without looking up from the catalog. Aurora had circled ‘Economics 101.’ Weird.

It was the last week of classes; graduation was on Sunday. Gansey seemed to be proud that Ronan would be walking with him and Adam. This made little sense to Ronan; it was stupid to be graduating from high school when he’d only actually lived through two years and a few months of it. Ronan didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment when he thought about it, but then, he’d never cared much about school.

But Gansey and Adam cared deeply. They were making plans to head off to Princeton together in the fall, while Blue went off to VCU in Richmond. Ronan felt a little angry every time he thought about the fall, thought about living far away from Adam and Gansey both, but mostly it seemed okay. He’d have Noah and his mom and Matthew, and he could visit Princeton whenever he wanted.

And maybe he’d attend some community colleges of his own one day. Adam had asked him about this a few times, and been surprised to hear that Ronan wasn’t violently opposed to the idea of higher education. He just didn’t feel in any kind of hurry to get there.

“Here you are. Careful, it’s hot.” Aurora sat down across from him, passing him his mug of tea. She’d taken the Darth Vader one for herself. The tea was English Breakfast, which Ronan didn’t like--he didn’t like any kind of tea, but Aurora liked making it for him.

“I know it’s hot,” Ronan said with an eyeroll. Aurora just smiled at him, and Ronan blew on his tea.

“How is Adam?” Aurora asked. She asked this almost every time she saw him. When Ronan had casually mentioned to Adam that Aurora asked after him all the time, Adam had wondered aloud if that was a result of the spell they’d done to move her off the ley line. Then he’d asked Ronan if she had ever shown much curiosity before the spell. 

To Adam’s credit, he had asked the question seriously and after some hesitation, like he knew it had the potential to be upsetting. Still, Ronan had been so surprised at this question that he’d never before contemplated and so horrified by its answer (no, she had not) that he’d immediately started a fight. He’d yelled and Adam had yelled and then thrown Ronan out of his apartment. Ronan had stomped out in such a rage that he’d left behind his shirt, which Adam brought to him the next day, when they made up.

“Adam’s good. Pumped about graduation,” Ronan said. “He’s been pretty busy with exams, and Cabeswater. But we’re hanging out tomorrow.”

Ronan figured that when you got down to brass tacks, Adam was his boyfriend. The only person who’d ever used that terminology to refer to the two of them was Gansey. Ronan didn’t really care what the relationship was called; he knew he was in love, although he had yet to tell Adam this.

Ronan would make sure to say it before Adam left for Princeton.

On the drive from Aurora’s apartment back to Monmouth, Ronan veered off-course and headed to the Barns instead. He’d only recently started coming back here with any kind of regularity. It was hard: he loved the Barns, but it reminded him of finding his father’s body, and it was only _very_ recently that that particular memory had started to feel a little less fresh.

It was eight pm. Ronan still had at least an hour of daylight left. He headed to a trail in the woods, one of the many trails that wove in and out of the property. Some were better maintained than others, and of course all of them needed work now, years after Niall’s death. Ronan wanted to hire some contractors to come out here and fix them up. He would, he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

This particular trail had been eroded and was often blocked by fallen trees that Ronan had to climb over. It didn’t lead anywhere all that special and it wasn’t long--just a two mile loop, but Ronan had gotten in the habit of walking it almost every day back in junior high. He’d done a lot of walking, in general, when he’d been twelve. He’d just had a lot of energy. Niall had teased him about it: “look at you, you’ve just got so many places to go!” 

Ronan and his father had walked this loop together more than once. Ronan let the memories come, along with the hurt, the longing, the aching knot in his chest. 

He still thought about his father every day, but it was no longer always the first thing on his mind each time he woke up. Ronan felt guilty about this. It reminded him that he couldn’t stop the passage of time, and that time only flowed in one direction, a direction that would never stop taking him further away from the fifteen years he’d lived with his father in his life.

At the halfway point of this loop, the trail led to a very small clearing, a patch of land roughly twenty feet across where there were no tall trees, only grasses and flowers and things. At the edge of this clearing there was a tree that, while it was skinny, took up a lot of space, with many branches spreading out. Its colors were always brilliant in the fall. Ronan had looked up its leaves in a plant book in the Aglionby library: it was a black tupelo, _nyssa sylvatica._

Ronan sat beneath it now. The ground was damp. If Adam were here, all these plants would be bending toward his light, and new plants would be sprouting to welcome him. 

There were many spots on other trails in the Barns that had been changed this way after Ronan had visited them with Adam. Ronan liked this. He liked that Adam left his mark on the Barns in a way that was different from how the Lynches left theirs, but complementary.

Graduation felt like one of the least real things in Ronan’s life. 

But there were other things in Ronan’s life that felt real. His family, even Declan. Gansey, Noah, Blue. Chainsaw. His father’s BMW. The freedom that came with not having nightmares as often anymore. Adam Parrish.

Ronan could not have imagined, back in February, that the boy who’d broken into his bedroom window would be so instrumental in Ronan’s recovery. Could not have imagined how Adam would help heal him. The healing was unfinished; nothing would ever return what Ronan had lost, and there were important things that he would never remember, and he would always have some rage in his heart.

The holes in his mind scared him. But they were just holes. They couldn’t hurt him in the present.

Ronan sat on the forest floor, ignoring the occasional buzz in his pocket that indicated a text from Gansey, until it started to get dark. The temperature dropped, though not by much. Stiffness grew in his legs from sitting in one position too long. Distantly, he could hear the roar of an engine on a highway, so far away that it seemed quiet and kind. And around him, fireflies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this and cheered me on and helped me edit. Thanks especially to drunktuesdays and perculious.
> 
> I'm zeegoesthere on tumblr, come talk to me about any of my raven children.


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